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Champneys* Hasil. Memoirs and correspondence of Coventry

Fmtmore.

London George Belt [N. Y. Macmillan} 1900. 2v. portraits, pUtes. fac-

■imilcs, O. 32s. 1 1 0.50.

I aolkorued biofrapliy of Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore, 1823-1896, "the poet of
ii l0ve**, by his friend, the architect Champneys; gives a full acconnt of Patmore's
warn with the British Museum, the periodical press, the Pre-Raphaelttes, the Roman
■e Church, Gamctt Woolner. B. W. Procter, Tennyson, Ruskin, etc.

h^ 1900. j:539>

W. Dawson Johnston, Aug. 1901.

ALA Kim

COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON
PATMORE. BY B. CHAMPNEYS

GBSU

frrm ti ^ihrtoijnift/t li; Jjltarraui^ flS(}l/

Memoirs

and Correspondence of

;oventry Patmore

By

Basil Champneys

Vol. I

^i5^i7>^-

London

George Bell and Sons

1900

2^'3^Q),if-5-

CHISWICK PRBSS: CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.

DEDICATION

A large proportion of what is most interesting
and most authentic in these volumes is due to Mrs.
Palmare's devoted foresight during her husbands life^
and to her indefatigable industry then and later. I
dedicate these volumes to her in recognition of the
confidence which led her to entrust the work to me^
and in the hope that they may seem to her a not
altogether inadequcUe memorial.

viii PREFACE

in supplying recollections, copying letters and
memoranda, conducting much of the necessary
correspondence, and assisting generally. The bio-
graphy includes nothing which has not passed her
censorship as to fact : otherwise I have, from the
first, assumed full responsibility and been allowed a
free hand. I could have had no satisfaction in the
work had I been hampered by any conditions (beyond
the reticence due to the living) which would have
impeded my endeavour to give a complete picture
of my subject. Mrs. Patmore has indeed fully
shared my view that Patmore s biographer could
afford to be candid. There has been no pressure
put upon me to present him after the likeness of so
many subjects of biographies written or censored by
near relations, in which the distinctive features are
rubbed down, and a suggestion of the angelic thrown
in as compensation. If my portrait fails to be life-
like, it is not from suppression of facts or adaptation
to a conventional standard.

Mrs. Patmore, for many years before her hus-
band's death, had his biography in view. She often
asked him about events in his earlier life and
wrote memoranda concerning them from his dicta-
tion, copied portions of his letters which seemed to
possess biographical interest, and gained information
by all other means available to her. The records
thus accumulated have been of inestimable value to
me. Of other material there has, I hope, proved to
be enough, though I have been frequently tantalized

PREFACE ix

by coming on the track of important letters and
documents which I have been unable to secure.
Patmore was visited on occasions by capricious fits
of destructiveness : he sometimes alienated papers of /. 7
importance ; while some of his letters have, in other '
hands, formed a part of holocausts which, for loss of /
literary treasures, have been simply tragic. What
remains however is more than I should have ex-
pected to find, seeing that he was never, especially
in later life, a great writer of letters.

By far the most interesting of the available docu-
ments are those relating to Patmore's first courtship
and marriage ; nor have there been any which have
put so severe a strain upon the discretion of his
biographer. The charm of these is so great, the
light they throw on his own and on his first wife's
character so intense, that the temptation to employ
them too freely has been strong. A somewhat
liberal use of them seems indeed to be both de-
manded and justified ; demanded, because Patmore
is best known as the poet of wedded love, and there-
fore a special interest attaches to records of his
affection for the wife who was the chief motive of
his verse ; justified, for his published work abounds
in candid self-expression, never more fully than on
this very subject. Indeed the limits he has set are
none too strait, and within these his biographer may
move in safety; nor do I think that those who
know his writing best will accuse me of having vio-
lated the boundary which he has indicated.

X PREFACE

His father, Peter George Patmore, has a claim,
scarcely inferior to Emily Patmore's, to figure some-
what largely in these pages. His relation to his
eldest son was exceptionally close, and his influence
on him, both natural and educational, is worth
tracing. The elder Patmore was moreover in his
own day (to some extent is still) the subject of
literary comment and criticism, much of which can
now for the first time be shown to have been unjust.
I feel confident that Coventry Patmore would have
been specially anxious to have old misunderstand-
ings of his father's career and character cleared up,
and a just estimate given of his merits and defects,
both of which the son fully recognized. As regards
the other members of Patmore's family whom I have
endeavoured to sketch, — if temporary departures
from my principal theme need justification, I may
quote Patmore's words with regard to the " re-
moter stars" (vol. i., p. 262): "You cannot see
them unless you look a little on one side of them."
Similarly the reader may realise my main subject
the better for occasionally having his " direct gaze "
diverted to others ; nor is Patmore's relation to them
the less clearly illustrated by their figuring for a time
as my immediate study. Moreover they were in
life interesting to me, and it is my own fault if I have
not made them interesting to others. In the chapters
relating to these subordinate characters I have in-
cluded such letters and remains as seemed necessary
to make each sketch complete in itself.

PREFACE xi

I may note briefly the considerations which have
dictated the arrangement here adopted, that ot
placing the bulk of the letters and remains in a
second volume. A survey of the material for the
biography convinced me that this was the only
reasonable course. A large number of the best
letters were in series, which could not fail to lose
interest by being broken up, while they would have
impeded the narrative had I introduced them into
it bodily. I have however, in the first volume,
made use of single letters where they have been
specially apposite. It is curious that in very few
instances have both original letter and answer come
to hand : whenever such letters explained each
other, I have printed them together. It is, I
imagine, a common experience to find, as I have
done, that a very large proportion of the letters are
undated In the case of such letters as seemed
likely to gain thereby in interest, I have fixed such
dates as could be inferred with any certainty.

In other respects too I have been to a scarcely
less degree the passive instrument of my material. A
life in which events played quite a subordinate part
seemed scarcely to call for a strictly chronological
memoir. The arrangement adopted is therefore one
of subjects rather than of time. I have thought it
best to complete each as it arose. These are
however introduced in their proper sequence. Such
personal descriptions of Patmore as I have been able
to gather, or to give from my own observation, are

xii PREFACE

introduced in connection with the several sections
of the narrative to which they apply. The chapters
on Religion and Philosophy are placed in the second
volume, that they may serve as an introduction to
such of Patmore s unpublished writings as deal with
these subjects.

The delay in finishing my task, the bulk of which
has had to be done in holidays, is not without its
compensations : it has made available much material
which could not have been obtained earlier. For
instance, the " Prae-Raphaelite Diaries," on which
Messrs. Hurst and Blackett have kindly allowed me
to draw with freedom, have only recently been pub-
lished ; and these throw valuable light upon a stage
of Patmore s life, which but for them must have been
very imperfectly illustrated. Also many important
letters have come to hand quite late in the day.

I have to acknowledge help and advice from many
friends. Dr. Garnett, who knew Patmore intimately
for very many years, has not merely given me the
benefit of his recollections, but has been indefa-
tigable in bringing to my aid his accurate know-
ledge of literary history and his able criticism.
Mrs. Garnett too has supplied some characteristic
anecdotes. Mr. Aubrey de Vere has furnished me
with recollections of Patmore, which have been of
great value. I am also indebted to my brother
A. C. Champneys and to my friend Sidney Colvin
for important help ; to Mr. Edmund Gosse for putting
at my disposal Patmore s letters to him and his own

PREFACE xiii

articles on Patmore published in the "Contemporary"
and "North American" reviews ; and to Mr. Frederick
Greenwood for a valuable letter of Patmore's, and
for permission to use letters which he wrote to
Patmore when editing the ** St. James's Gazette" ;
also for an interesting anecdote about Henry Pat-
more. Mr. Sargent has most kindly allowed me to
reproduce a sketch he made of Patmore ; and my
brother-in-law, Lister Drummond, has helped me in
certain important matters. I must also acknowledge
valuable advice on matters of religion and philosophy
from my friend the Baron Friedrich von Hiigel
and the Rev. George Tyrrell, S.J. Lord Tennyson
has gone over with me the letters and memoranda
relating to his father and mother, and has explained
many of the allusions in them. Mr. George Allen
has kindly allowed me to use Mr. Ruskin's letters
to Patmore : Mr. Ruskin too gave his assent to
their being printed, and allowed his secretary to
explain many of the references which occur in them.
I may also, while thanking on my own and on Mrs.
Patmore's behalf all who have given us letters, men-
tion specially Mrs. AUingham, Mr. H. S. Sutton, and
Mrs. Herbert Fisher, who has supplied Patmore's
letters to her mother, Mrs. Jackson. Mr. E. H.
Pember, Q.C., has given me one or two characteristic
anecdotes of Patmore s later life, and my sons and
daughters have afforded me much general help,
especially in copying letters and memoranda.

I have not considered it to be a necessary part of

xiv PREFACE

my task to attempt a critical estimate of Patmore's
virork. I doubt if the time has yet arrived when his
position among his contemporaries can be defined
with any confidence, nor could I claim that my own
appraisal should carry weight, or escape a heavy
discount on the ground of friendship. I am content
if what I have recorded of his personality, to me of no
less interest and value than his work, shall prove to
have contributed indirectly to the just appreciation
which doubtless awaits him in the future.

Now that my work is done, I cannot but realize
how little, as regards the essential matters of thought
and character, can be added to the picture which
Patmore has himself left of himself in his published
works, the whole of which will be found by the
attentive reader to abound in intimate and sincere
self-revelation. These will in any case serve to
supplement my own description ; and, that they may
be left to do so in their integrity, I have endeavoured,
as far as possible, to illustrate my subject by hitherto
unpublished writings. The result which I most
desire for these volumes is that they should induce
my readers to devote to Patmore's published works
such attention as they merit, but have, as regards
the later and more important, hitherto failed to
secure. From these the careful reader may compose
for himself a portrait which will, I hope, not be
essentially different from that which I have drawn,
but which may be more vivid and life-like as well
as of superior authenticity.

CONTENTS OF VOLUME I

PAGE

Prxfacx vii

List or Illustrations xxi

Chronological Abstract of Events xxiii

The Principal Editions of Coventry Patmore's

Writings xxv

CHAPTER I.

Ancestry and Childhood — Maria Clarissa Patmore —
Robert Stevens — Eliza Patmore i

CHAPTER II.

Peter George Patmore — Career and writings — ^The Scott-
Christie duel — " My Friends and Acquaintance" — "Liber
Amoris" — "Blackwood's" — Resemblances and contrasts
between father and son 7

CHAPTER III.

Boyhood — Literary education — The drama — Early acquaint-
ances—The Sea— Childish loves — Life in Paris— P. G.
Patmore's letter — Miss Gore — The phrenologist — First
verses— Essay on " Macbeth "— " The Boy Poet "... 30

is-/pi

CHAPTER IV.

Early Poems— 'Press criticisms — "Blackwood's" review —
E. B. Lytton's appreciation — Lady Blessington's — ^John
Forster's — New friends, A. Fryer and H. S. Sutton —
Attribution of early poems to Tennyson \ 49

CHAPTER V.

Hard Times — P. G. Patmore's embarrassment and flight —
Literary struggles — ^Thackeray's help^"Vive la Guerre"
— Introduction to R. Monckton Milnes — ^Appointment to
British Museum 61

xvi CONTENTS

CHAPTER VI. PAGE

The British Museum — Particulars of occupation — Mrs.
Fryer's recollections — Dr. Gamett and Richard Holmes
— Relations with his superiors — Promotion of rifle corps
— Candidature for Colonial Office librarianship — Leave
of absence (1864) — Presentation of Sheridan's MS. plays
— Retirement (1865) — Presentation of works of Aquinas
(1880) — Retrospect 68

CHAPTER VII.

The PRiE-RAPHAELiTES — Points of resemblance between
P. R. B. theories and Patmore's early poems — P. R. B.'s
admiration for these — ^Association and intimacy — W.
M. Rossetti's recollections — Patmore's memoranda —
Ruskin's defence of P. R. B.— "The Woodman's
Daughter"— P. R. B. portraits of the Patmores— " The
Germ "—Relations with D. G. Rossetti— " Prae-Ra-
phaelite Diaries and Letters " 81

CHAPTER VIII.

Personal Traits, 1844- 1864 — Mr. Fryer's account —
" Young and Old England " — A. de Vere's recollections
— Nathaniel Hawthorne's "English Note-books" —
Night walks — Home habits — Tobacco — Religious
memoranda 94

CHAPTER IX.

Self-Education in the Poetic Art — Analysis of lines
from "Christabel" — Early prose writings — Talk on
poetic art — Projected work on Shakespeare — Essay on
metre — ^Tennyson's criticism — Opinion of the sonnet —
" Tamerton Church Tower " — Emily Patmore's influence 105

CHAPTER X.

Emily Augusta Patmore — I. Degree to which she is
identical with heroine of " Angel " — Her co-operation —
Mrs. Carlyle's satire — II. Materials for description of
her — Her relation to the later poems — The "Liber
Amoris" — Dr. Gamett's tribute — Her humour — Re-
ligious sympathy with her husband — Her patience and
firmness with her children — III. Biographical notes —
Her father, Dr. Andrews — First acquaintance with Pat-
more — Engagement — Marriage (1847) — Domestic quali-
ties — Society — Servants — ChSdren — Failure of health —
Writings — Georgiana Patmore — Life despaired of (i860)
— Her will — Her death (1862) — IV. Selections from

CONTENTS xvii

PAGE

" Liber Amoris " (correspondence with her husband)—

V. Extracts from Coventry Patmore's diary — Letter to
Dr. Gamett — Her husband's devotion to her memory —

VI. Specimen of her verses — Browning's verses in her
album — Memoir of her by her eldest daughter — VII.
Specimens of her letters ii6

CHAPTER XL

" The Angel in the House " — A. de Vere's record of Pat-
more's design — Metre — Subjectivity — How far auto-
biographical—Tennyson's tribute and criticism — Reasons
for publishing first part anonymously — Reception of first
pMut by Landor, Carlyle, Ruskin, Tennyson, A. de Vere,
Browning, Rossetti, Monckton Milnes — Reception by
the press — The "Athenaeum" parody — Patmore's dis-
couragement — Appreciative notices — "Faithful for Ever"
— Revision — Advice of friends — Temporary unpopu-
larity — Estimate of circulation 159

CHAPTER XIL

Relations with Tennyson and other Friends — Early
friendship — Recovery of MS. of " In Memoriam " — Sup-
posed allusion to Patmore in first stanza of " I. M." —
Gradual change of mutual relations — Patmore's reviews
of Tennyson — His view of later poems — Misadven-
ture at time of Emily Patmore's death — Application for
grant from Literary Fund — Tennyson's silence during
time of Patmore's bereavement — Unsuccessful effort at
reconciliation — Relations with other friends — Patmore's
magnanimity — Temporary estrangement from Browning
— Editorial interpolations — Editor of "Edinburgh Re-
view"— His comments on the "Idylls" and "Maud" —
Patmore's opinions of Tennyson before and after es-
trangement 178

CHAPTER XIIL

The Children's Garland — Principles and methods of
compilation — Co-operation of wife and daughter — Wool-
ncr's vignette— Attack by " A. K. H. B."— Woolner and
Froude desire amends — Ultimate success — Selection
from A. de Vere's poems by Patmore and Henry Taylor
— Views on punctuation — Life after Emily Patmore's
death — Visits to William Barnes and Mr. and Mrs. Mar-
shall — Journey to Rome 200

I. b

xviii CONTENTS

CHAPTER XIV. PAGE

Mary Patmore — Biographical notes — Meeting in Rome —
Patmore's conversion to Roman Catholicism and en-
gagement — Relation between these events — Her criti-
cisms on Patmore's poems — Her devotion to his children
— Her reserve — Personal description and anecdotes —
" St Bernard on the Love of God " — Her influence on
her husband's work — Death — Extracts from her letters —
Letters to her from " Barry Cornwall " 210

CHAPTER XV.

The Poet as Man of Business — Life at Highgate — Pets
— Purchase of estate in Sussex — Problems of manage-
ment — Quarrying — Trade conventions — Completion of
House — " Puddling " — Forestry — Domestic chaplains —
Stained glass, "The Seven Heroines" — The summer-
house — Financial result on sale 223

CHAPTER XVI.

Country Life — Delight in nature and agriculture — Sport —
Crowborough Observatory — Guy Faux — Poaching —
Seeks appointment on Commission of Peace — Recovery
of health and spirits — Love of teasing— ^/b/j: (Tesprit —
Absence of mind in driving, etc. — Recovery of poetic
impulse 235

CHAPTER XVII.

The Odes — Metre — Nine odes privately printed — Unsatis-
factory reception — Edition destroyed — Destruction of
earlier poems — Publication of some poems in " Pall Mall
Gazette "—Publication of " Unknown Eros "—Of "Ame-
lia" — Comparison of odes with earlier poems — F.
Greenwood's judgment — Cessation of poetic impulse —
Schemes for future verse — Extracts from Patmore's
letters concerning odes generally, and especially "The
Child's Purchase" 243

CHAPTER XVni.

Sister Mary Christina (Emily Honoria Patmore) —
Descriptions of her by her father and mother — Anecdotes
of her childhood — Her influence in the family after her
mother's death — Close sympathy between her and her
father — Cordial acceptance of her stepmother — Sense of
shyness — Her father's wise advice — Desire to become a
nun — Delay insisted on — Permission given — Happiness
in her new life — Ruskin's description of her — Relation

CONTENTS xix

PAGE

to her &ther's ideal — Death — Specimens of her poems

— Letters appreciative of her father's odes 263

CHAPTER XIX.

Loinx)N Life, Carlyle, Ruskin — Patmore settles on
Campden Hill — Joins Savile Club — Renews old friend-
ships — Intercourse with Carlyle — Anecdotes — Inter-
course with Ruskin — Ruskin's appreciation of Bertha
Patmore's paintings — Patmore pays two visits to Ruskin
at Brantwood — Letters and memoranda 280

CHAPTER XX.

LouRDES — Visits to battle-fields in 187 1 — Epigram on Ger-
man Emperor's telegram — Opinion on attitude of Ger-
man people — The ode " Peace " — Objects of visits to
Lourdes — Letters from Lourdes 286

CHAPTER XXI.

Henry Patmore — Biography by his sister and note by his
father — Author's recollections — Extreme reticence —
Anecdotes — His father's letters about him and his poems
— Specimens of his poems — His poetical prospects dis-
cussed — Extracts from his letters 294

CHAPTER XXII. V

Later Prose Writings — "Sponsa Dei" — Its relation to \

Patmore's thought and to Catholic theology — Its de-
struction — Possible survival of portions in published
writings — Patmore's association with F. Greenwood —
Reform and Redistribution — Patriotism in spite of Pes-
simism — "The Revanche, Sedan or Waterloo" — Poli-
tical writings in verse and prose compared — Begins to
write regularly for "St. James's Gazette" — Relations
with his editor — " The Anti- Jacobin " — Published prose
writings — Their style — Their influence 315

CHAPTER XXIII.

Later Life — Founds "St Mary, Star of the Sea" — His in-
terest in the work — Quarrel with the priests — Rood screen
and proposed statue of the B. V. M. — Married to Miss Rob-
son — Birth of son — Dante celebration — Friendship with
Mrs, Me>Tiell— " Pathos and Delight "—Francis Thomp-
son — ^The Laureateship — Failing health — Letters about
his last days — Funeral — Monument ....... 334

XX CONTENTS

PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS, 1864-1896.

CHAPTER XXIV.

heron's ghyll. page

My first introduction — His appearance — My first visit to
Heron's Ghyll — His insight into animal intelligence —
Freedom from bigotry — Talks on religion — Impressions
of Mary and Emily Honoria Patmore — Relations with
his children — Delight in easy circumstances — Freedom
of intercourse — Opinion of " prigs " — Personal optimism
and political pessimism — Heron's Ghyll life pourtrayed
in "Odes" — His tenant's literary criticism — Attitude
in general society — Preference for small companies —
Evening with Carlyle — Tite-d^tites — Manner of imparting
his mystic ideas — Their relation to Catholic doctrine . 350

CHAPTER XXV.

HASTINGS.

The new home described — Storms — Newspapers — Daily
habits — Whist — Period of highest power — Exaggerations
— Humorous misrepresentation of his creed — Contempt
for " faddists " — A short way with burglars — ^Attitude
under bereavement — Sympathy with friends — Relations
with his youngest son and other children — Visits to
Yattendon, O^rford, Cambridge, and Houghton-on-the-
Test — Prayers for success in sport — Changes of phy-
sique and manner — Characteristic attitudes — Relations
with local priests — Story of a " collection " 368

CHAPTER XXVI.

LYMINGTON.

" The Lodge " described — The New Forest — Local society
— Patmore not understood as a poet — Anecdotes — His
delight in misappreciation of himself and his Church —
His literary work — Projects for new poem — "Tom o'
Bedlam "—Specimen of irony — Fancy for and traffic in
jewels — Portrait by Sargent discussed, with anecdotes —
Failure of health — Its effect on his work and on his con-
versation — Increase of catholicity — Summary of author's
impressions 381

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOL. I

TO PACK
PAGB

V Coventry Patmore. From a photograph by Barraud
(1891) Frontispiece,

rSvMBOUCAL Panel. From the monument to Coventry
Patmore at Lymington title page,

•^Pkter George Patmore. Pen sketch by himself ... 6

-The Mansion, Hastings. From a drawing by T. Raffles

Davison 34

' Coventry Patmore. From a drawing by J. Brett, R.A.

(1855) 84

*- Coventry Patmore. From medallion by Thomas Woolner,

R.A., 1849 88

* Emily Augusta Patmore. From a portrait by Sir J. E.

Millais, Bart., P.R.A. (1851) 116

• Emily Augusta Patmore. From a medallion by Thomas

Woolner, R.A 118

•^Ionument in Hendon Churchyard 158

•^Marianne Caroline Patmore. From pencil drawing by

J. Brett, R.A., 1871 210

- Heron's Ghyll, with Lake 228

• The Hermitage, Heron's Ghyll. From a sketch by

B. Patmore 232

•^* Let Be," By Coventry Patmore. Facsimile of MS. 250

* Emily Honoria Patmore. From a photograph by

Rejlander, 1872 262

* Henry John Patmore. From a photograph, 1875 . . 294
^ Facsimile of Letter from Henry Patmore .... 306

* Coventry Patmore. From a photograph by G. Bradshaw,

1886 332

-St. Mary, Star of the Sea. From a drawing by T.

Raffles Davison 336

* The Monument at Lymington 348

*^Heron's Ghyll 350

^Old Hastings, from High Wickham. From a drawing

by T. Raffles Davison 370

.The Lodge, Lymington 380

CHRONOLOGICAL ABSTRACT OF
C PATMORE'S LIFE

As I have not adopted a strictly chronological
system in the biography, the following table of the
principal events of Patmore's life may be found use-
ful by the reader.

iET.

Bom, July 23 (p. ly

16 ) At Collie de France : Essay on ) ^ ^/: .^n >

17 / " Macbeth " : Earliest poems. / ^PP* ^o-^S).
" Poems " published (pp. 49-60). X
Peter George and Eliza Patmore leave England

(p. 61).

Appointment at British Museum, November

(p. 65).
Engaged to Emily Augusta Andrews, May 17 ;

married, Sept. 11 (p. 129).
Early prose writings (pp. 105-113). ^
Promotes Metropolitan Rifle Club, January (pp.

71.76).
" Tamerton Church Tower " published, John W. ^

Parker (pp. 11 3- 114). ^

"The Betrothal," first part of'
" Angel in the House," John W.

Parker.
1856 33 " The Espousals," second part of

"Angel in the House." }^(pp. 1 59-177)-

i860 37 " Faithful for Ever," third part

of " Angel in the House."
1 863 40 " Victories of Love," fourth part

of " Angel in the House."
1862 39 Emily Augusta Patmore dies, July 5 (p. 134).
" Children's Garland " published (pp. 200-206).

' AU the references are to vol. i.

1823
1839

1840

1844
1845

161
17 J

21

22

1846

23

1847

24

1846-
1852

[862
28

1853

30

1854

31

xxiv CHRONOLOGICAL ABSTRACT

.AT.

1864 41 Journey to Rome, February. ^

Conversion to Roman Catho-
licism, May. .(pp. 211-214).

Engaged to Marianne Caroline
Byles, May. Married, July 18.,

Retires from British Museum.

Buys Estate in Sussex, Heron's Ghyll (p. 224^^

Nine Odes privately printed (pp. 243-245). (

Leaves Heron's Ghyll (p. 233).

Settles at the Mansion, Hastings (p. 315).

"Life of Procter" published, George Bell and
Sons (p. 331).

" The Unknown Eros " \ George Bell and Sons

"Amelia" J (p. 247).

Marianne Caroline Patmore dies, April 12
(p. 270).

1 88 1 58 Married to Hamet Robson, September 13

(p. 339).

1882 59 Emily Honoria Patmore dies, July 13 (p. 270).

Memorial Church commenced (pp. 334-339).

1883 60 Henry Patmore dies, February 24 (p. 2g6).

1884 61 Heniys poems published (p. 302).

1885 62 Later prose writings commenced (p. 315).
1889 66 "Principle in Art" published, George Bell and

Sons (p. 331).
1 891 68 Removes to Lymington (p. 339).
1893 70 "Religio Poetae" published, George Bell and

Sons (p. 339).

1 895 72 " Rod, Root and Flower," George Bell and Sons

(p. 339).

1896 73 Died, November 26 (p. 346).

1865

42

1866

43

1868

45

1874

51

187s

52

1877

54

1878

55

1880

57

\

si

THE PRINXIPAL EDITIONS
OF COVENTRY PATMORE'S WRITINGS

Poems. Fcap, 8va (E. Moxon.) 1844.

Tamcrton Cbt]|M> Tower and other Poems. Fcap. 8va

1853-
f. Pafker.) 1854.

House. The Betrothal. Fcap. 8vo
S) 1854-

|ic House The Betrothal and Book II.
lis, Fcap. 8vo. 2 pts. (J. W. Parker.)

(PickeriQ
Do.

The Angel
O.W. P

The Angel
The Es|
1854-5

The Angel ii
Fcap. 8

Faithful for
1 86a

The Angel
Parker

House. The Betrothal. Second Edition.
1858.
(A Poem.) Fcap. 8vo. (J. W. Parker.)

the House. 2 vols. Fcap. 8vo. J. W.
n. 1 86a

L only is of the third edition.
»ve, Fcap. 8vo. (Macmillan.) 1863.
House (including the Victories of Love).
. 8vo. (Macmillan.) 1863.
iassetrs National Library.) 32010. 18S7.
ted]. Crown 8vo. 1868.

ve. (A Poem.) . . . 4th edition.

10 1878.

and other Poems, pp. 192. (Na laa in
ibrmry.) 1888.

The Children's Garland from the best poets. Selected
and arranged by Coventry Patmore. (Forming part
of the "Golden Treasury Series.") 1862.
[Another edition.] lUustnUed by J. Lawson. London. 1873. 8vo.

Bryan Waller Procter (Barry Cornwall) An autobio-
graphical fragment and biographical notes, etc. [Edited
byCP.] 8vo. (BelL) 1877.

The Victories
The Angcl iiv

2 vo!s.
Do. (No. ?o
Odes [privately
The Victories

Crown 8vo,
The Viaories of

Cassell's Natioi

I.

V

xxvi COVENTRY PATMORE'S WRITINGS

Florilegium Amantis. [Selections from the author's poems.] Edited
by R. Gamett Fcap. 8vo. (BclL) [1879.]

The Unknown Eros and other Odes, i-xxxi. Crown 8vo.
(Bell.) 1877.
[Another edition.] i-xlvi. Crown 8vo. (Bell.) 1878.
Amelia and Tamerton Church Tower. Crown 8vo. (Bell.)

1878.
The Angel in the House. Crown 8vo. (BelL) 1878.
The Victories of Love. Crown 8vo. (Bell.) 1878.
(The last four volumes were issued as a collective edition of
the Poems.)

Poems. (Collective edition in 2 vols., including Poems by
Henry Patmore.) Fcap. 8vo. (Bell.) 1886.
(Reprinted in 1890, 1894, 1897.)

Saint Bernard on the Love of God. Translated by M. C.

and C. Patmore. 8vo. 1880.
Another edition. 1884.
How I Managed and Improved my Estate, etc Crown

8vo. (Bell.) 1886.
Hastings, Lewes, Rye and the Sussex Marshes. Crown

8vo. (Bell.) 1887.
Principle in Art, etc. [Essays reprinted from the "St,

James's Gazette "]. Fcap. 8vo. (Bell.) 1889.
[Selections. Edited by A. W. Miles, with an Introduction by R.

Gamett.] The Poets and the Poetry of the Century, etc [1891,

etc.]

Religio Poetae. Fcap. 8vo. (Bell.) 1893.

The Rod, the Root, and the Flower. Fcap. 8vo. (Bell.)

1895.
The Angel in the House. (Bell.) London. Fcap. 8vo.

1896.
The Poetry of Pathos and Delight: passages selected by Alice

Meynell, ¥nth a portrait after J. S. Sargent. Fcap. 8vo. (Heine-

mann.) 1896.

Principle in Art New edition .(revised and rearranged).

Fcap. 8vo. (Bell.) 1898.
Religio Poetae. New edition (revised and rearranged).

Fcap. 8vo. (Bell.) 1898.

CORRIGENDA ET EXPLICANDA

VoL Ly p. 13, sixth line from bottom, /or " three " read "four.**

Vol. i., p. Ill, line S^/or " 1880 when Principles in Art," read,
•* 1889 when Principle in Art,"

Vol i., first paragraph of chapter ix. I had not, till this had
been printed off, heard of Lord Tennyson's saying, " Poeta nasdtur
e/ fit" Otherwise I should have preferred to express the view
adopted in his words and on his authority.

VoL L, p. 114. I see that the ''Athenaeum" in the obituary
notice of Coventry Patmore, December 5, 1896, gives 1 851 as the
date of Patmore's expedition to Cornwall The article, written by
one who was at that date an intimate friend of Patmore's, has
considerable authority on such a point I have however adopted
the date I have given in the text ("previous to 1845") ^*^^ ^^
following reasons: (a) Patmore's correspondence with his first
wife, which is pretty complete, does not allude to any such journey;
and therefore it is unlikely that it was made after his marriage.
(d) It appears from a letter to H. S. Sutton, vol. ii., p. 159, that
Patmore had commenced " Tamerton Church Tower," the poem
founded on this expedition, in February, 1848. (c) From 1845
till 1847, Patmore could not have afforded such a tour.

As r^ards punctuation of letters, I have followed the originab
where, as, for example, in Sir £. Bulwer Lytton's and Ruskin's,
it seemed to me to be characteristic; in the greater portion I
have endeavoured to correct it where it was defective.

VoL i., p. 68, line i. The actual date of Patmore's retirement
was December 31, 1865.

VoL i., p. 144, line 9, /or " fifteen " read " sixteen."
VoL L, p. 185, line 17 j /or "pension " read "grant"

COVENTRY PATMORE

CHAPTER I

ANCESTRY AND CHILDHOOD

ABOUT the year 1760 John Stevens married
Maria Bockmann,^ the sister of a fairly well-
known German artist. Their children were
Robert, and another son who lived to maturity and
married ; Maria Clarissa (born in 1 76 1 ), and two other
daughters who died in childhood. Robert, who
married but had no children, was a great traveller, a
naturalist and botanical artist. Some of his draw-
ings of trees and flowers are still preserved by the
family. Their merit is scientific rather than artistic.
He also had some literary talent.' Maria Clarissa
Stevens married, in 1783, Peter Patmore, a silver-
smith and jeweller in business on Ludgate Hill.
Peter and Maria Clarissa Patmore had one child,
Peter George, who became a writer of some note. He
was born in 1786, and in 1822 married Miss Eliza
Robertson, a lady of Scotch family. They had four
children, Coventry Kersey Dighton, the subject of
this memoir, bom July 23, 1823; George Morgan,

* This is the spelling given on the back of one of the pictures.
The name is more often written Baeckmann.

* Charles Oilier writes to Coventry Patmore in 1856: "I have
in my custody, belonging to you, a manuscript of singular ability
by Mr. Stevens about persons who have borne the name of Robert,^'
Oilier was an author, and a publisher in partnership with his
brother. They had published for Leigh Hunt, Keats, and Shelley.

\. B

v/

COVENTRY PATMORE

bom 1825 ; Gumey Eugene, bom 1826 ; and Eliza
Blanche, bom 1827.

Coventry Patmore therefore came of a good middle-
^ class stock, distinguished by special association with

^' ^ painting, with the jewe ller's art, and with literature ;
^ while, under the influence of'his great-uncle, he was

p at an early age encouraged in the close study of

nature. AH these strains reappear in his personality
and in his work. The love for jewels which he
showed in later life may be considered an hereditary
trait or a mere coincidence, as the reader pleases.
Coventry Patmore was never brought into any con-
tact with his grandfather's business, as Peter Patmore
retired from it long before his grandson's birth, and
P. G. Patmore, his father, had in early youth given
up his claim to it. Though it is difficult to assign so
special a tendency to pure heredity, the association
is at least worth recording. The influence exercised
over him by his grandmother, his great-uncle, and his
father, are more definite ; nor can the artistic element
be ignored. This showed itself when Coventry Pat-
more was a boy in some proficiency in drawing, and
later in an intense love and sound judgment of pic-
tures, while in his second daughter it is more defi-
nitely manifest in very remarkable and original work.

The grandmother, Maria Clarissa Patmore, was
from the first entirely devoted to her eldest grand-
child. She was a woman of strong character and
great intelligence. Patmore spoke of her as " one of
the strongest-minded and most intellectual women
I had ever met." Her son's marriage had evidently
been of her contrivance. I gather from some extant
correspondence that she had had Miss Robertson,
a lady of some beauty and a moderate fortune, with
her as a frequent visitor, almost as a companion, and
with the co-operation of her friends, had brought
the match about in spite of her son's preference for

ANCESTRY AND CHILDHOOD 3

celibacy. This, no doubt, enhanced the partiality
which, even in ordinary cases, is often shown for the
eldest grandchild.

During his earliest years Coventry spent most of
his time at his grandmother s, who, as he used to
tell, "did her best to spoil me and make me con-
ceited. The first sentence she made me say was, 4^
' Coventry is a clever fellow.' " She taught him to \
read and write, and to knit and dam. While he was ■..'.'
acquiring the latter accomplishments by her side, she -
would tell him thrilling tales of battles fought in the
early years of the century, or of the Gordon riots, of
which she had been an eye-witness. He used to say '
that her accounts of these riots tallied in almost •,
every particular with Dickens's description in
•* Barnaby Rudge." His imagination was greatly /r
kindled and his reverence for the narrator strength-/
ened by these first-hand stories. She is said to have
been an accomplished needlewoman and something r*.
of an artist ; to have had a vigorous constitution and
exceptional energy. Her death was caused by a
fall down-stairs in her ninety-third year (1853).
Even at that date her hair retained its natural colour
and her teeth were perfect Coventry had among
his family relics a lock of dark-brown hair, untinged
by grey, which she had cut off for him at the age of
eighty-seven. Only one letter of hers has been pre-
served. It is written on the back of one of Peter
George Patmore's (printed pp. 36-42), which again is
the only letter of his to his son that comes to hand.

" Pentonville, loth Oct, 1839.

*Mv Dearest Dear Coventry,

" I think of you every Day, and every hour but par-
ticularly every Sunday ; a beautiful day in France ; the
people all look so happy — and you are more so on that
day — ^because you have your liberty, think if I could be
with you one Sunday and walk in the Forest, and see Paris.

4 COVENTRY PATMORE

I thank you, my dearest for the beautiful little views.^ I
look at tkem and read your Utter every day. I will take
your advice and make myself as happy as I can without
you, and you have a Friend ; how delightful to meet with
such a treasure at such a distance from home, you must tell
him, I am sure I should like him, because he is your Friend.
I am quite well but it is very cold Aere — so exposed to the
north winds.

"I am as ever your own Dear, Dear Granny,

"C. M. Patmore."

To his great-uncle, Robert Stevens, Coventry
Patmore owed his first introduction to country life.
A considerable part of his childhood was spent at
Mr. Stevens's home at Woodford Green in the Epping
Forest. Here Coventry and his brothers would
roam tc^ether, leading a kind of man-of-the-woods
life, and daring each other to deeds of hardihood.
One amusement of theirs is recorded, which involved
a Spartan discipline self-imposed. They used to tie
each other's hands behind their backs, close their
eyes, and jump into a quick-set hedge. He who bore
the experience with the least flinching was considered
the victor. But even as a mere child Coventry seems
to have preferred solitary rambles, during which he
might be alone with nature. He looked back on
" the times when he first felt the living beauty of a
field of buttercups, or the pure joy expressed by the
\j . daisies on the lawn, or the jewel -like brilliancy of ripe
j red currants in the evening sunlight " (this seems to
/ foreshadow his later passion for rubies) as those of
^ V his greatest mental and moral growth, and would

speak with gratitude of God's goodness in thus early
revealing Himself to him. Such revelations he be-
lieved were given to all in childhood, though by many

' These were probably sketches of buildings and scenes in Paris.
Patmore used, even late in life, occasionally to make sketches in
his letters.

\

ANCESTRY AND CHILDHOOD 5

they were lost sight of through inattention or obscured
by wilful denial of the light. It is impossible to as-
certain how far Robert Stevens fostered these germs
of religious feeling ; but it is probable that he was the
first to encourage Coventry to study nature, and that,
himself an accurate student and careful illustrator, he _
could help to develop in him a faculty rfobsgrva- ^
tion, the basis of jhat descriptive^po wer of wh ich »
Patmore's poetry, even the earliest, gives proof

Men of genius are generally believed to owe the
larger share of it to their mothers. In the present
instance there is no evidence of any such debt ; and
indeed very little that is interesting has been recorded
of Eliza Patmore. She is said to have been hand-
some,^ tall, and stately ; cold in manner to all, and
somewhat stem and authoritative with her children.
She cared little for the literary pursuits which were
so much to her husband and which their eldest son
soon began to share with him. She seems to have
resented the partiality shown to Coventry by his
grandmother and father, to have had little natural
sympathy with the ways of children, and to have been
impatient of their foibles. Indeed she made her sons
so fearful of rebuke that they would often blunder in
the performance of her commands from mere nervous-
ness. I gather too from an entry in Coventry Pat-
more*s diaiy (see p. 143) that he was hurt at the
cold and formal reception she accorded Emily
Andrews upon their engagement, and contrasted his
mother's manner with the warm-hearted, eager desire
of welcome shown by his affianced wife. Eliza Pat-
more certainly possessed strength of character : she
seems to have been tenacious of the religious belief
in which she had been reared — that of a somewhat

* The only portrait of her is a drawing taken after her death by
Mr. Holman Hunt It shows a fine face, and the features are
regular and strong.

6 COVENTRY PATMORE

rigid Presbyterian — ^which was never modified by the
influence of her husband's agnosticism ; and though
she was not allowed to impart her views to her
chfldren, it is clear that she indirectly influenced her
son by bringing him into association with her own
relations who could be under no similar restriction.
Her husband, in the few passages published and
unpublished which relate to her, speaks of her with
enthusiastic affection ; and her son, who seldom men-
tioned her, invariably did so with respect We may.
conclude that Coventry Patmore inherited from his
mother consistency and strength of character as well
as religious fervour, in both of which characteristics
he contrasts definitely with his father. She died at
Coventry's house, December 5, 1851.

One single scrap of her writing remains, which I
am justified in printing only by its being brief and
unique. It is of course addressed to her husband.

[1824.]
"Dear George,

"This has this moment arrived. I do not know
what to do about the check — I think I won't enclose it, as
you will get some money of Colboum.
" Baby ' is quite well.

" Your affect*'*^

"Eliza Patmore."

"Tuesday morning.
" Will you bring Rabbit and Brandy and the things Mrs.
Dod * is to purchase for me ? "

The father's career and character call for fuller
consideration.

* Coventry.

* The landlady of the London house in which P. G. Patmore
had rooms.

PETER GEORGE PATMORE.
Pen sketch by himself.

VW, I.

To face t« ^-

CHAPTER II

PETER GEORGE PATMORE

PETER GEORGE PATMORE at an early
age decided on a literary career, refusing a
profitable opening in the family business in
favour of his chosen pursuit. He wrote for a large
number of periodiads, among others for "The
Westminster,"" "The Retrospective Review," " Black-
wood/' *• The London/' and " The New Monthly/'
He was for some years reader and editor to Colbum,
a rather fashionable publisher ; but the connection
was terminated by an event which resulted in a law-
suit, or rather in cross-suits. Colbum had been cast
in damages for a libel which had appeared in '* The
Court Journal," of which he was proprietor, and
endeavoured to recover from Patmore, under whose
editorship the incriminating article had appeared. At
the same time Patmore sued Colbum for salary,
claimed under a somewhat complicated agreement
Each party ultimately lost his case, and both were
dissatisfied with the result, while Patmore's income
was, for the time, considerably reduced.*

In " My Friends and Acquaintance" he describes
himself as " one of the managers " of the London
Institution, and in this capacity he first made ac-
quaintance with William Hazlitt, with whom he
arranged for a series of lectures.

P. G. Patmore's more important works were
" Imitations of Celebrated Authors, or Imaginary

^ For further particulars see Appendix I.

8 COVENTRY PATMORE

Rejected Articles," some prose parodies more or less
on the lines of "Rejected Addresses"; "Chatsworth,"
a series of stories with an introductory setting, after
the manner of the ** Decameron " (among the char-
acters sketched in this introduction are D' Israeli,
Bulwer Lytton, Mrs. Gore, and Mrs. Norton, as well
as the writer's eldest son,^ with other characters less
easy to identify) ; " Letters on England," a criticism
on English life, written "under the character of a
Frenchman," and " The Mirror of the Months," which
seems to me to be his best work : indeed much of
it is so good, both for accurate observation of nature
and in style, as almost to make the reader wonder
that it has not survived in public esteem. No doubt
what eventually killed it was the difficulty of main-
taining interest and novelty through twelve distinct
sections.

In 1845 P- G- Patmore, who had speculated in
railways beyond his means, became deeply involved.
William Hazlitt's grandson writes : " He came to my
father in a state of great dismay, and asked his
adv^ice. ' Hazlitt,' he said, ' what, in God's name,
am I to do ? I am in for a million.' • Do ? ' re-
turned my father, * why, stay where you are ; they
know well enough you haven't got it.'" Patmore
however had to leave England for a time, and his
sons were left to fend for themselves.

He seems to have been intimate with most
members of the literary world of the day. Many of
his friendships are recorded in the volumes which
he published shordy before his death, entitled *' My
Friends and Acquaintance." His name occurs fre-
quendy in the literary records of the period, and
correspondence which Coventry Patmore preserved

* See pp. 45-48. This volume was issued anonymously as edited
by the author of " Tremaine " and " De Vere," Mr. Plumer Ward,
by whom the reading public assumed that it had been written.

PETER GEORGE PATMORE 9

gives evidence of a wide range of distinguished
acQuaintances.

He did not confine himself entirely to prose, but
his productions in verse are neither many nor of dis-
tinguished merit. Some translations from Petrarch,
with sonnets on Wordsworth and Sir Walter Scott,
were printed in early numbers of " Blackwood," and
his son preserved a manuscript volume containing a
few sonnets to his wife, as well as a long and rather
dreary poem about an unhappy marriage* The
following seems to be as good as any verse he wrote,
and shows that he appreciated Wordsworth as highly
as did his son. Indeed, the allusions to Wordsworth
and quotations from him in his prose works are
frequent and appreciative.

" Wordsworth, thy name is precious to mine ear !
It comes not on my spirit like the shout
Of riotous mirth ; — scattering its noise about
Till joy becomes half intermixed with fear, —
But to my heart it sinks in tones of clear,
Deep, pure, perpetual music. Mists of doubt.
That cling around my being, and put out
The lights of life, at that name disappear.
O, for a poet's voice, that I might frame
A lay of fitting thanks ! I would not sing.
Like the proud nightingale's, a song of flame ;
But, like the stock-dove's, — ever murmuring
Of quiet inward bliss — ever the same ; —
Perpetual as my thanks — pure as their spring."

London, 1817.

It should be remembered that at this date ap-
preciation of Wordsworth was by no means general.

P. G. Patmore died on Christmas Day, 1855. His
son's respect and affection for him survived to the end,
and the anniversary of his father s death was to the
last observed by him as a day oS seclusion.

There are however special incidents in P. G. Pat-

lo COVENTRY PATMORE

more's career which call for notice in fuller detail.
The papers placed at my disposal throw new light
upon affairs of his which have hitherto been im-
perfectly recorded. These, properly understood,
serve to illustrate, whether by resemblance or con-
trast, the father's ethical relation to his son, whose
prospects moreover were, at least to some extent,
affected by them.

In 1 82 1 P. G. Patmore acted as second to Mr.
John Scott, the editor of ** The London Magazine,"
in a duel with Mr. Christie, the friend of John Gibson
Lockhart, in which Mr. Scott received a fatal wound.^

The meeting took place at 9 o'clock on the even-
ing of February i6th, Mr. Traill acting as second
to Mr. Christie, and P. G. Patmore to Mr. Scott.
Mr. Christie behaved on this occasion, as he had
done in all the earlier transactions, with the most
perfect chivalry. The moon was shining brightly,
and, when the principals had been placed, Mr.
Christie found that he had an advantage in seeing
Mr. Scott's head above the horizon. He there-
fore warned Mr. Scott, caused the position to be
changed, and then, the signal given, fired in the
air. This action on the part of one who had had

^ It is irrelevant to my purpose to relate fully the circumstances
which led up to the duel. It is enough to state that the original
quarrel had been between Mr. Scott and Mr. John Gibson Lock-
hart, and turned on the question whether the latter was or was not
the responsible and paid editor of " Blackwood's Magazine." Mr.
Lockhart was represented in absence by Mr. Christie, on whom
the quarrel came ultimately to be fixed. Had P. G. Patmore un-
derstood the letters he had received from William Blackwood and
all that they implied, he would have been able to show in whose
hands the management of the magazine actually rested. These
letters are described below, pp. 22-25, ^^^ ^^ printed in Appendix
V. For further particulars of the dispute the reader is referred to
Mr. Andrew Lang's " Life of Lockhart," which gives a full and
accurate account of this intricate affair.

PETER GEORGE PATMORE ii

but litde direct interest in the quarrel should at once
have ended the affair, and doubdess would have done
so had the seconds been more experienced and
consequendy less flurried, or had they fully under-
stood the edquette of duelling. But as all four
were civilians and literary men, who, at least in
England, were not generally accustomed to *' affairs
of honour," some bungling was almost inevitable.
The following is the account of the subsequent action,
to which Dr. Darling, who was in attendance on Mr.
Scott, testified as having been given him by Mr.
Scott on the night following the duel.

•* After the pistols were reloaded, and everything
ready for a second fire, Mr. Traill called out, * Now
Mr. Chrisde, take your aim, and do not throw away
your advantage as you did last time.* I [Mr.
Scott] called out, * What, did not Mr. Christie fire
at me ? ' I was answered by Mr. Patmore, * You must
not speak : you have nothing for it but firing."

At the coroners inquest which followed Mr.
Scott's death, it was given in evidence that Mr.
Patmore had complained of Mr. Christie s second for
not formally announcing that his principal had *' fired
away," thus giving him no opportunity of asking Mr.
Scott if he was satisfied. There can be no question
that Mr. Patmore had failed to apprehend the posi-
tion. It was clearly contrary to custom and etiquette
that, under the circumstances, a second shot should
have been called for. The proper course, I imagine,
would have been for Mr. Traill to say to Mr. Patmore,
" Mr. Christie did not aim at Mr. Scott. Do you
wish the matter to proceed further.*^" Instead of
taking this line, he seems merely to have been
anxious that his principal should not, a second time,
put himself at a disadvantage. But, if this view be
correct, it seems unfair that Mr. Patmore should
have had to bear the whole blame, which should at

12 COVENTRY PATMORE

least have been equally divided between the two
seconds; though it was not unnatural that public
opinion should go against the second of the man who
lost his life.^

The view I have adopted may, I think, be reason-
ably deduced from material already published. There
are however among P. G. Patmore's papers, preserved
by his son, a number of letters and documents which
throw additional light on the event, and which, even
if they have to be taken as ex parte statements, still
give ground for a far more definite and complete
exculpation. The following letter, written the day
after the duel, is sufficient testimony to the warm
friendship which subsisted between principal and
second, and to Patmore's poignant grief at the result
of the duel :

"17 Fel/.
" My dear Mother,

"The affair of my friend Scott has (I have the
strongest reason to fear) terminated fatally. We went out
yesterday even«. and he is wounded desperately. There is
barely a hope of his life. If he dies I lose the dearest friend
I ever had, among men. My sorrow and affliction are more
than it is possible to express. All things that ever happened
to me before are nothing, compared with this last fatal mis-
fortune. I am stricken to the ground. For the first time
in my life I confess that Fate, or Fortune, or whatever it
may be, has been too strong for me. It is as much— it is
almost more than I can do, to struggle against it. But I
must and will. You and Eliza* must come up to me. Not
immediately. In the meantime, be as easy as you can. Til
write to you again very shortly — making arrangements.
For the present I am obliged to be out of the way. Write

^ It is curious that in a play, " Marriage in Mayfair," written
some fifteen years after the duel, P. G. Patmore should have put
into the mouth of one of his characters the following words:
" Wildgaose, The Devil ! Of course they fired several times.
Very scandalous of the seconds to suffer it."

* Miss Robertson whom he married.

PETER GEORGE PATMORE 13

directly to say how you are. Direct to Robt. Stirling Esqr.,
Gloucester Hotel, Piccadilly, London. You must expect to
be at an uncertainty about [me] for a few days. I will, of
course, end your suspense as soon as I can. Mind, there is
no danger about me!*

It is evident that Patmore anticipated an imme-
diately fatal ending. Mr. Scott however lingered ten
days. Mr. Patmore, realizkig the difficulty of his posi-
tion and the odium which he was likely to incur, wished
to have at his disposal evidence for the vindication
of his conduct. He therefore sent a friend, whose
name does not appear, to obtain Mr. Scott's testimony
on the two points which seemed most likely to be
urged against him — the arrangement for meeting in
the late evening, and the permission of a second
exchange of fire. The following memorandum was
written three days after the statement by Mr. Scott
to which Dr. Darling testifies, but seven days before
this had been given in evidence at the coroners
inquest, and is in Mrs. Scott's handwriting.

" Mr. Scott was not made aware till after his second fire
that Mr. Christie had said that he had discharged his pistol
in the air, no communication to that effect having been
made by Mr. Traill to Mr. Patmore. Such a statement,
had it been understood, would have been deemed by Mr.
Scott and his friend completely satisfactory, and would
necessarily have prevented any further proceedings.

"The proposal to meet at night, Mr. Scott states to have
originated with Mr. Christie, but Mr. Scott willingly acceded
to it, in order that the affair might be terminated as quickly
as possible."

I find also three letters written shortly after Mr.
Scott's death by his widow to P. G. Patmore.
These show conclusively that, so far from feeling
any resentment against him. she entirely acquits
him of all blame, holds Mr. Christie s second to be
responsible for the misadventure, and feels the deepest

14 COVENTRY PATMORE

sympathy for the trouble which his support of her
husband had brought upon her correspondent. She
completely endorses the view of the facts embodied
in the memorandum, and admits that, even if her
husband had made the statement to which Dr. Darling
had testified (though on this point she seems to be
extremely sceptical), he was, at the time, quite
incapable of any clear recollection. She further
testifies to the value of Patmore's influence over her
husband in restraining his fiery nature, and implies
that Patmore had on some former occasion saved
him from the consequences of his habitual rashness.
She explains that she has been prevented only by
feminine delicacy and by the urgent advice of her
friends from exonerating him in a more public manner,
and looks forward to a complete vindication of his
action in a memoir of her husband which she intends
to write. The letters* are most creditable to her
character and feelings, and give evidence of a high
sense of justice, as well as of such patience and
sympathy as under the circumstances could scarcely
have been claimed or expected.

Though P. G. Patmore's letters are not forth-
coming, it is easy to gather that they were far less
generous and considerate than hers. He seems to
have felt and to have expressed in no measured
terms his resentment against Scott for " giving him
away " in the statement said to have been made to
Dr. Darling. Mrs. Scott very gently deprecates
this condemnation of her dead husband, and behaves
throughout as though it were her province to appease
and console one who can scarcely be held to have
been the principal sufferer. She writes too with
womanly sympathy of the courtship then in progress
between Patmore and his future wife, whom he
married in the year following the duel, and playfully
* Printed in Appendix II.

PETER GEORGE PATMORE 15

upbraids him for his professed indifference, a pose
which he seems to have adopted. The letters of
this period are addressed to Patmore, who was then
in hiding in Calais, under the names of ** P. G. Pitt "
and " P. G. Preston."

Mr. Lang, in his " Life of Lockhart," surmises that
Mr. Patmore did not at once surrender himself
because he wished that his absence might weaken
the evidence against the others. I can however find
no suggestion of this motive either in the correspond-
ence or in P. G. Patmore's own memoranda. He
seems indeed to have been greatly alarmed for his
personal safety and for his property, which, had a
verdict of manslaughter been recorded against him,
might apparently have been forfeit. His legal
advisers, who were none other than Keats's friends,
John Hamilton Reynolds* and James Rice, were at
first unable to mitigate his fears, and they advise an
assignment of his property (";^ 10,000/' as appears
from an annotation in P. G. Patmore's writing) in
order to put it out of reach of the law. Later, matters
appear to have taken a more hopeful turn, and he
is then urged to return to London, still preserving
his incognito, and to be ready to surrender. Patmore
however does not seem to have appeared at the trial.
This resulted in the acquittal of the surviving principal
and the seconds, and all fear of actual penalty was
removed. Not so the scandal or the consequent
trouble. This indeed ended only with P. G. Patmore's
life. There are among his papers numerous memor-
anda made with a view to a public vindication of his
conduct, and the latest of them bears so recent a
date as 1853, thirty-two years after the duel, and
but two years before his death. I have printed in
Appendix IV. a paper which is evidently the draft
of a manifesto intended to be put forth by his friends.
^ Reynolds's letters are given in Appendix III.

i6 COVENTRY PATMORE

It is not dated, and was, so far as I can ascertain,
never published. As this event is still, after more
than three-quarters of a century, a not infrequent
subject of literary allusion, it seems to me no more
than fair that the apologia should be made public*

It is only necessary to add that, in spite of the
obloquy which this transaction brought on him,
P. G. Patmore seems to have maintained his former
friendships and to have made many new ones, some
of them with those who must have been fully
cognizant of the circumstances of the duel, and whose
character may be taken as a guarantee that his con-
duct had appeared, at least to them, not inexcusable.
I think too that this, apparently the first painful
experience of P. G. Patmore s life, served to make him
more serious and steady. U p to this time he seems to
have been somewhat vain, "dressy,"* fancying himself
as a lady-killer, a frequenter of prize-fights — altogether
to have led a rather frivolous life. Shortly after
the duel, feeling no doubt the need of solid affection,
he became engaged to the lady whom his mother
had evidently chosen for him, and for whom, shortly
before, he had disclaimed any special regard. In
her honour he indites sonnets and other verses
(never published) in the Petrarchian manner but
tinged with an affectation of Byronic melancholy,
which for general sentiment leave little to desire,
and figures thenceforward as a thoroughly domestic

^ Coventry Patmore was rather proud of his father's association
, with duelling. He thought it an honest and manly way of settling
\ disputes, and held that its worst consequences were preferable to
\ tame submission to an insult.

' W. C. Hazlitt writes : " Patmore was at one time a dandy, and
- affected two sorts of nether garments, one pair for walking, and
another for sitting down. He once sat down, with unhappy results,
in the promenading pair." When P. G. Patmore died only one
debt of his was found to have been unpaid, and this was to a
tailor. This may have been a mere chance.

PETER GEORGE PATMORE 17

character, a good husband, and a most indulgent
father, especially to his eldest son.

The other principal cause of P. G. Patmore's un-
popularity was the publication, in 1854, of ''My
Friends and Acquaintance." This work gave rise
to some heated correspondence in " The Athenseum "
and "North British Review," and Patmore was
accused of injustice in exalting Mr. Plumer Ward
above his deserts, and in disparaging Thomas Camp-
bell in an equal degree/ as well as of many literary
defects. There is no doubt plenty of truth in such
strictures; but that it should have seemed worth
while to make them, except for the purpose of rebut-
ting definite charges, was unquestionably due to a
misappreciation of the author s aims and endow*
ments ; — ^in fact, to his being taken too seriously by his
critics. The volumes in question clearly make no

f)retence to provide a serious appraisement of the
iterary position of their subjects : in most cases they
are little more than somewhat disjointed, fragmentary,
and gossipy memoirs of various personalities widi
whom the writer had been brought in contact. Such
as they are, they furnish considerable matter for
more serious and critical biographical work, to which
they for the most part do not attempt to attain, and
for which the author had obviously no special quali-
fication. Undoubtedly the most important study is
that of Hazlitt, which, notwithstanding its diffuseness,
inconsequence, and air of special pleading ; in spite
(or perhaps in virtue) of the self-contradictoriness of
the descnption, conveys on the whole a picture of
this strange, wayward, and quite abnormal personality

* P. G. Patmore had sUted that Campbell had turned over the
life of Mrs. Siddons to another writer. This charge was satis-
factorily disproved in '* The Athenaeum," and is further shown to
be untrue by a letter in the possession of Dr. Gamett.
I. C

i8 COVENTRY PATMORE

which many will think at least as just and correct as
that drawn by his enemies.

The least pleasant part of P. G. Patmore's associa-
tion with Hazlitt, and that which offers the most
striking contrast between the father and the son, is
his connection with the *' Liber Amoris." * That the
father of Coventry Patmore, the poet of chaste love,
should have encouraged such a correspondence as
the book contains is strange enough ; stranger still
that he should have said of it : " There is nothing in
poetry more truly poetical,* nothing more ennobling
by the strength of its passion, while it is no less
softening and humanizing by the depth and darkness
i of its pathos " (reading some letters which he prints,
p one almost wonders that he should not have written
** bathos ") ; scarcely less strange that he should have
been blind to the absurdity apparent in such passages
as the following :

V

" I thought of the breakfasts I had promised myself with
her . . . and compared them to the one I had this morning."

" My tea, which used to refresh me when I got up, has no
moisture in it Oh ! cold, solitary, sepulchral breakfasts."

All this only shows how complete, even in essential
qualities, may be the difference between father and
son. Those who knew Coventry Patmore would

* It may save readers the trouble of reference to this work, if I
state here that the object of the amour recorded was the daughter
of the landlord in whose house Hazlitt lodged, where she acted
as maidservant. The bulk of the volume consists of letters from
Hazlitt to P. G. Patmore and Sheridan Knowles.

* P. G. Patmore does not indeed stand quite alone in his
opinion. Strange to relate, Mrs. Jameson pays the " Liber Amoris "
a warm tribute in her " Commonplace Book." It was inevitable
that, as Hazlitt's work, it should include some eloquent passages,
which however can, I think, be appreciated by those only who
succeed in ignoring their context.

PETER GEORGE PATMORE 19

be at no loss to conceive what, under similar circum-
stances, would have been his attitude; with what
fierce indignation he would have bid the writer of
the letters find some other receptacle for his un-
wholesome refuse ; how he would have shrieked with
contemptuous laughter at the bathos shown in such
passages as I have quoted ; how his one desire would
have been that all these morbid lucubrations should
have been summarily and mercilessly destroyed.

Coventry Patmore held and proclaimed with re-
gard to these letters a very strong opinion, which I
cannot but consider to be justified; not merely or
mainly on account of the irregularity of the amour :
this would not, in itself, have aroused in him such
strong disgust. Hazlitt's intentions indeed were
in the end "honourable," so far as circumstances
allowed : that is to say, he came to have marriage
in view, though he was still encumbered with a wife,
from whom he had but an indefinite prospect of
obtaining an invalid divorce. But apart from this,
I should think it would be hard to find elsewhere an
example of conduct more exactly the reverse of
chivalrous. The confidences he makes in full detail
(with characteristic delicacy, Hazlitt speaks of the
endearments which passed as "liberties "J by word
and letter to his own friends, to the girls parents
and acquaintances (never, I imagine, could there have
been so large a proportion of " telling " to " kissing ") ;
the meanness with which he disparages her so soon
as he finds her definitely beyond his reach ; his utter
lack of self-control both in passion and in spite, com-
pose as squalid a picture as could be found in the
most cynical fiction. Patmore felt extremely sore
about his father's connection with the affair, and it
was on this account that he did less than justice to
Hazlitt's literary attainments ; while the knowledge
of the same critic s rancorous attacks on Coleridge.

20 COVENTRY PATMORE

Patmore's special admiration, must have gone far
towards strengthening such prejudice.

The sequel of this association may as well be given
here. As regards the elder Patmore, the friendship
left a legacy of strife in the arrangements which after
Hazlitt's death ^ had to be made by his friends for the
payment of certain debts, and almost caused a breach
with Procter, an old and valued friend of both (the
details of the difference are not made very clear by
the correspondence, nor are they worth elucidating) ;
and many years after, Coventry Patmore finding
among his father's papers some hitherto unpublished
letters of the " Liber Amoris" series, sent them to
the son, in order that he might have the satisfaction
of destroying with his own hands these memorials of
his father's erotic weakness ; ' and later finding that
they had been sold for publication, he wrote to ** The
Times " as follows :

* P. G. Patmore and Procter were among those who tended
Hazlitt in his last ilhiess.

' The grandson seems to have written to Coventry Patmore
later, in 1866, to ask for further papers relating to WiUiwi Hazlitt.
It is clear from the following correspondence that the letters alluded
to above, as well as Coventry Patmore's own letter which accom-
panied them, had been tiun^ into money.

** 5, Albert Hall Mansions,
" Kensington Gore,
" November 24, '93.
"My dear Patmore,

" Well may you censure the tactlessness of this indelicate
age, as instanced too often now-a-days in the Sale-room. I happen
to possess a note of yours rather to the point in question. It is
dated from Buxted Hall, N^ Uckfield, Sussex, /Tov. 7, '66 and
runs and follows :

*Mv DEAR Sir,

When my father died I found among his papers a
series of letters from your grandfather to him. These were of so
car^idenHal a nature that I thought no one but his son ought to

PETER GEORGE PATMORE 21

"Hazlitt's Letters.
" To the Editor of The Titnes *

" Sir, — I think I have some right to protest against the
public sale and proposed publication of the letters from
Hazlitt to my father, extracts from which formed the basis
of that wretched book the * Liber Amoris.' At my father's
death, these letters came into my possession, and, thinking
that Hazlitt's son ought to have the assurance that docu-
ments calculated to be so damaging to his father's fame no
longer existed, I sent them to him, taking it for granted that
he would destroy them. Before his death, my father blotted
out some lines from these letters, feeling, I suppose, that no
eyes ought to see them. I am sorry now that I did not
myself bum the whole mass of morbid trash, instead of
intrusting the unpleasant secret of Hazlitt's mental and
moral disease to the tender mercies of his heirs and ad-
ministrators.

" I presume that, as my father's representative, I could,
if I chose, stop the publication of these letters by injunc-
tion ; but I feel that there would be some absurdity in my
assumption of a tenderer care for Hazlitt's fame than that
which is shown by his nearest relatives.

" I am. Sir, your obedient servant,
"Coventry Patmore.

'* Lymington, Hants. Nov. 23 [1893]."

Thus the annoyance caused by the original
association survived Hazlitt's death by more than
sixty years.

have the disposal of them. I therefore gave them to your father.
I have no other papers that would assist your purpose.

Believe me, my dear Sir,

Yours faithfully,

C. Patmork.'
W. C. Hazlitt, Esq.'

** Thinking you will not be displeased with me for copying this
and sending it accurately to you, under the present circumstances,
" Believe me, dear Patmore, with every good and kind wish,

"Yours,

"St. Clair Baddiley.''

22 COVENTRY PATMORE

Besides these, I think there are no records which
throw so much light on the character of Peter George
Patmore as those which give his relations with
"Blackwood's Magazine." When this was started
in 1817 he forwarded to the editor a contribution
initialled "A. Z." which was cordially received by
William Blackwood in that capacity. At this time
Patmore may not have known under what auspices
the periodical had been started, nor to what faction
it was accredited ; still less that it was to prove the
special medium for virulent onslaughts upon those
who were among his principal friends. He seems
to have had some misgivings; and the editor of
" Blackwood " is at pains to assure him that there is
no intention to be libellous. Patmore undertakes to
report Hazlitt s " Lectures on Poetry," and the notices
are admitted with a qualifying supplement, lest
" Maga " should be supposed to identify herself with
Hazlitt's views. In a very short time Hazlitt, Leigh
Hunt, and Keats come under the lash. As regards
Hazlitt, a new friend (the friendship, indeed, com-
menced in connection with these papers),^ he is
content to defend him by a mild remonstrance
against the epithet "Pimpled," which a scurrilous
contributor had applied to him. Patmore denies
the truth of the epithet in a physical, and fails to under-
stand its meaning or applicability in a moral or intel-
lectual sense. Probably the writer of the article cared
neither for its truth nor applicability in either sense
so long as it served to wound. Later, Hazlitt,
attacked with increasing virulence in a paper entitled
" Hazlitt cross-questioned," threatens a lawsuit, and
Patmore is called on by the editor to compose the
quarrel, which is somehow compromised.*

* I gather this from " My Friends and Acquaintance," but the
narrative is strangely wanting in precision.

* The letters are printed in Appendix V.

PETER GEORGE PATMORE 23

He evidendy occupies a serviceable if somewhat
doubtful position with regard to " Maga." To the
pillars of the publication he is by no means ^persona
grata. He is " Tims " ^ the " Cockney," a warrior in
the wrong camp ; useful for purveying news from Lon-
don concerning the drama and such matters, for intro-
ducing the magazine to London readers ; useful too
as a mediator in case any ** cockney " worm shall turn ;
also welcome as a writer, so long as he abstains from
making too much fuss in the defence of his friends.
He is tantalized with permissions to break a lance
on their behalf (which offers however seem to have
been ingeniously evaded), but holds on to the rather
ignominious position he occupies until, in 1820, he is
finally snubbed out of it, and within a few months is
found acting as second in the duel in which '' Maga"
rather than any individual is the real antagonist.

There must have been a point at which the connec-
tion had ceased to be compatible with self-respect
and loyalty to friendship ; when he should have re-
fused to write for the magazine, except on condition
that the abuse of his friends should cease. One
cannot ascertain how far his circumstances would
have justified his making a definite stand ;^ but it is
certain that a stronger man, his son for example,
would have done so in defiance of circumstance.
Meanwhile the letters themselves are of considerable
interest, not merely because they throw valuable
light upon much of the literary history of the day,
but, even in a greater degree, for the revelations
they afford concerning the much-discussed question
of the early management of '* Blackwood s Magazine. "

* See ''Noctes Ambrosians."

" The " ten thousand pounds " (see above, p. 15) however were
presumably in hand, and Patmore pretends to desire no payment
for his contributions, an affectation not uncommon at the time —
probably originating with I>ord Byron.

24 COVENTRY PATMORE

The letters alluded to are all in the same writing,
some being signed "The Editor of Blackwood's
Magazine," others "William Blackwood." "The
Editor" "hands letters" to "Mr. Blackwood," and
" William Blackwood " quotes extracts of letters from
" the Editor." " My partner Mr. Jorkins " is always
at hand in emergencies, inhabiting as he does the
same material frame as "Mr. Spenlow ; " and the
editor s identity has been revealed to the " proprie-
tors " alone, in a confidence which obviously risks no
betrayal : so each part of this triplicate personality
plays battledoor and shuttlecock with the others as
circumstances demand. Coventry Patmore, who has
annotated some of the letters, probably, as I think, in
view of a projected biography of his father, has failed
to penetrate this Jekyll-and-Hyde mystification, and
attributes the letters of " the Editor of Blackwood's "
to John Wilson.* The father shows no signs of having
noted the duplicity, or rather triplicity, involved in
the correspondence. Possibly it escaped him ; or,
understanding it, he may not have found in it so
considerable a departure from correct usage as one
hopes that our contemporaries would do. At any
rate there is nothing to show that he appreciated the
anomaly, a recognition of which would have enabled
him to throw valuable light on the controversy which
preceded the duel with which he was so unfortunately
associated, and might have put a weapon into his
hands for his own or his friends* defence, or even for
carrying the war into the enemy's country.

How completely Coventry Patmore had mis-
apprehended his father s relations with Blackwood
is shown by the following letter, which however may
be taken to indicate what would have been his own
action under similar circumstances.

^ William Blackwood's and John Wilson's handwritings are
curiously similar, though they can be distinguished with certainty.

PETER GEORGE PATMORE 25

"Lymington, Jany. 5, 1896.

" My dear Gosse,

" I fear that I cannot give you any full history of my
Father's connection with Blackwood's Magazine. I believe
he b^[an his career, as a contributor to periodical literature,
in Blackwood — I think anonymously. I remember seeing
long letters from Prof Wilson, shewing that my father
was a very highly valued contributor, until he declined to
write any more, on account of an attack, I think on
Wordsworth, which appeared in that Magazine. My father
had no very deep political feelings, but strong personal
feelings about literary men whom he admired. I never
saw or heard of his notices of Hazlitt in Blackwood. My
father was a very silent man, and never talked to me about
his own work. After his refusal to write for Blackwood,
the Magazine turned against him, and attacked him virul-
ently."

But the father's attitude towards these affairs only
affords a specially conspicuous example of a dissimilar-
ity which is elsewhere widely apparent between his
character and that of his son, and which shows itself
scarcely to a less degree in thought and style. The
father is often wearisomely difmse, disjointed, and
irrelevant, while the son's prose writings are always
concise, pregnant, and to the point. P. G. Patmore,
though the recipient of some of Charles Lamb's most
witty and whimsical letters, seems to have shown
himself, at least occasionally, deficient in sense of
humour as well as in some of the qualities which
humour implies ; while Coventry, though displaying
it in original forms not always too intelligible to
strangers, was fully possessed of the gift. Nor does
the father appear to have shown any of that self-
centred strength of conviction and principle which
was so conspicuous in the son. Besides his apprecia-
tions of Wordsworth, the only writing of his that
seems to me to indicate any considerable foreshadow-
ing of his son's qualities is "The Mirror of the

26 COVENTRY PATMORE

Months," which is full of delicate and sympathetic
observations of the processes of nature. The essay
on February in some respects anticipates the son's
ode "St. Valentine's Day," while it embodies a
tribute to the writer s wife which for warmth and
delicacy of feeling seems worth transcribing.

" I have said that I designed to prove this to be the best
of all possible months. Is the reader still incredulous as to
its surpassing merits? Then be it known to him that I
should insist on its supremacy, if it were only in virtue of
one birthday which it includes: and one that the reader
would never guess, for the best of all reasons. It is not that
of * the wisest of mankind,* Lord Bacon, on the 3rd : or
of 'the starry Galileo' on the 19th: or of the 'matchless
master of high sounds,' Handel, on the 24th. True,
February does include all these memorable days, and let
it be valued accordingly. But it includes another day,
which is worth them all to me, since it gave to the world,
the narrow world of some half-dozen hearts, one who is
wiser in her simplicity than the first of the above-named,
since the results of that wisdom are virtue and happiness ;
who is more far-darting in her mental glance than the second,
inasmuch as an intuitive sentiment of the truth is more
infallible than the clearest perception of it ; and whose every
thought and look and motion are more ' softly sweet ' and
musical than all the * Lydian measures ' of the third : and,
deprived of whom, those who have once been accustomed
to live within the light of her countenance would find all
the wisdom of the first to be foolishness, all the stars of the
second dark, and all the harmony of the third worse than
discord."

(Coventry's first wife was also bom in February,
and father and son had the same reason for making
this their favourite month). Perhaps a still greater
resemblance between them is to be traced in the
single letter to him from his father, which Coventry
Patmore has preserved (pp. 36-42).

In this there seems to be something of the incisive-
ness, manliness, and wisdom, which might have been

PETER GEORGE PATMORE 27

looked for in the poet's father, and which, in so
far as it represents his attitude in family relations,
helps to account for the great respect which his
son retained for his memory — a respect which his
general character and literary performances alone
could scarcely have earned.

Patmore used often to tell me that his father had no
belief in the supernatural, and did not allow his wife
to give their children any religious instruction. He
seems nevertheless both to have had some kind of
respect for the instruments of religion, and also to
have been prepared to employ its sentiments for
literary purposes. Patmore records in his auto-
biography (vol. ii. c. iv.) that his father had so much
respect for the Bible as to be indignant if it were used
as a seat (one cannot help being reminded of Dr.
Johnson's " very religious man" who had not entered
a church for many years, but never passed one with-
out taking off his hat) ; and beseems to have perceived
no inconsistency with his negative opinions in writing
such a passage as the following :

"Those who have seen this sight, of all the Charity
Children within the Bills of Mortality assembled beneath
the dome of St. Paul's, and heard the sounds of thanksgiving
and adoration which they utter there, have seen and heard
what is perhaps better calculated than any thing human
ever was to convey to the imagination a faint notion of
what we expect to witness hereafter, when the Hosts of
Heaven shall utter, with one voice, hymns of adoration before
the foot-stool of the Most High."'

Coventry Patmore used to be specially severe upon
such purely artistic use of reli^^ious ideas; but
he seems to have condoned much m his father's case
— as to a kind and indulgent parent was no more
than natural.

* "The Mirror of the Months," June. .

28 COVENTRY PATMORE

The impression left by a study of P. G. Patmore's
career and writings is that of honesty, amiability,
tolerance, versatility ; a judgment neither too keen,
nor altogether unbiassed by personal partiality; a
faculty of accurate observation unaccompanied by
analytic power ; a vanity scarcely perhaps exceptional
in degree, but which he betrays with extreme naiveti;
a style facile and fairly accomplished, but usually
wanting in distinction. On the whole, though he
seems to have been masterful in manner and often
obstinate, one finds him a rather colourless and " in-
vertebrate " personality, figuring, at any rate in earlier
years, as the dandy, sportsman, cosmopolitan, and
man of the world among literary men, and as the
literary man in Society; reticent in talk and garrulous
on paper ; faithful (though not always to the point of
chivalry) to his friends and never bitter to his ene-
mies; but wanting in that "grit," consistency, and
force of character, as well as in fixed principles of
opinion and conduct, which were so characteristic of
his more strong-natured son.

That he should ever have aroused such serious
enmities as permanently to prejudice his son's career,
seems to me improbable. Doubtless both his acts
and writings exposed him to criticism, which, being
in those days largely founded on political and literary
faction, was unscrupulous and fierce. But the extant
correspondence proves him to have kept his friends
to the last, among them many of those most eminent
in the literature of the day, and to have occupied a
position among his contemporaries at least adequate
to his intellectual claims.

The following is the only letter of condolence on
his father s death, among the few which Coventry
Patmore has preserved, diat is of any interest.

PETER GEORGE PATMORE 29

'' Bute Street, Old Brompton.
"17th March, 1856.
"My dear Sir,

" At length, after a partial recovery of health, I
have heard of the death of your father. This was grievous
news for me. Your father was among the oldest and
most esteemed of my friends. Many happy hours have I
passed with him in many places ; at Highwood, Southamp-
ton St. (Fitzroy Square), Camberwell ; here, in my diminu-
tive house ; at Colbum's, etc. ; and never was our intercourse
marred by any dispute, or, scarcely, by difference of opinion.
To say this, is to eulc^ze myself Your father was a good
man — manly, straighSbrward, honest, truthful, friendly;
as I know by many kindnesses he has rendered me by his
pen, good-will, and cordial attentions. He was moreover,
as we are all convinced, a person of rare intellectual endow-
ments, and a companion in whose society it was impossible
to pass a dull hour.

" I have endured dire sickness, and am still alive. My
friend Patmore is gone I Gone to that eternal repose and
happiness which no man merits more than he.
** This thought mitigates my deep sorrow for his loss.
" Yours, my dear Sir,

"Very faithfully,

**Chas. Ollier."

CHAPTER III

BOYHOOD

FROM early youth Coventry Patmore became
his father's chief companion and literary
pupil. P. G. Patmore's partiality for his
eldest son, shown from the first, was considerably
strengthened by a community of interests and taste
which developed with the progress of years.
Coventry's tenacity of purpose was noted by his
brothers, one of whom long after related how, if
they had formed a desire for some indulgence which
had seemed to them unattainable, he would undertake
to obtain it and almost invariably succeed, showing
moreover no surprise at his success. His determina-
tion was scarcely less conspicuous than his father's
desire to gratify his smallest wish. Almost as soon
as he could read he began to show a love of letters,
and while still quite a young child was constantly to be
found in his father's library. Peter George Patmore
always had plenty of books about him, especially the
works of the English poets, in which he had marked
his favourite passages. These volumes were eagerly
devoured by the future poet, and no doubt he yielded
somewhat to obvious temptation in limiting his
reading to the selected portions. In after life there
appeared to be evidence that such had been the case,
as he would occasionally express a judgment on some
poet's work founded only upon an isolated quotation.
On the other hand, it is certain that he read thoroughly
the works of such poets as were most congenial
to him, and mastered comprehensively those of

BOYHOOD 31

Dante» Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, and Milton.

He used habitually to refer to his father any questions

which had arisen in the course of his studies, and

these were resolved for him ; or if P. G. Patmore

could not answer him at once, he would indicate the

books in which the desired information could be found,

and the two would together hunt up the necessary

authorities. At one time he showed considerable

talent for mathematics, and his father seems, not very

wisely, to have made exhibitions to his friends of the /

child's proficiency. Coventry would be called down , , IJr'

to the drawing-room and asked questions of some 1 I

difficulty : he would retire into a comer of the room '/ *"*'.

to reflect, and then return to the questioner with

the answer ready.

Nor was it to books alone that his father intro-
duced him. P. G. Patmore was devoted to the stage
— was indeed at one time a theatrical critic of some
note — and used frequently to take his sons with him
to the play ; when, if the piece were worthy of atten-
tion, Coventry would sit absorbed, as in a trance.
The impression made on him in these early days by
the drama was permanent, and to the end of his life ,

he would discuss the merits of Kean, Macready, and ^ '^^
Rachel. It is said that in recent years he decided
not to see Signora Duse act, lest she should displace
Madame Rachel from her position of prime favourite.

Coventry used also to accompany his father on
his visits to his friends— among them to some leaders
of literary Society. One of the houses to which he
was often taken was the Basil Montagus'. Mrs.
Basil Montagu made a strong impression on him ;
and even in later years it was as high a compliment
as he could pay to a lady to remark that " she re-
sembled Mrs. Basil Montagu." He used to say
that she nearly always wore black velvet and lace,
knowing that these suited her best On one occasion,

32 COVENTRY PATMORE

having doubtless this lady in his mind, he astonished
a g^rl, who asked him in what dress she should
be married, by recommending ** black velvet."
Another house with which he was familiar in early
years was Bryan Waller Procter's (Barry Cornwall),
who had married Miss Skepper, Mrs. Montagus
daughter by a former marriage. The friendship with
both Procter and his wife was maintained till death,
and Coventry Patmore wrote the life of the poet at
his widow's earnest request. It was to these two
houses that he owed many of his principal friendships.
It was certainly at the Procters' that he became
acquainted with Monckton Milnes, probably also
with Tennyson ; and both of these associations had a
considerable influence on his future life. Patmore
also made the acquaintance of Lei^h Hunt, and the
following letter tells the tale of their first meeting in
the very words in which Patmore was wont to rdate
it.

"Hastings, Feb. 6th, 1889.
"My dear Gosse,

" My first sight of Leigh Hunt — concerning which
you enquire — was in this wise. I, being at 17 or 18 years
of age, or perhaps younger, an admirer of the ' Indicator'
and * Rimini,' set off with a letter from my Father, an old
friend of the Poet, informing him of my ambition to see
him. Arriving at his house, a very small one in a small
square somewhere in the extreme west, after a walk of some
five or six miles, I was informed that the poet was at home,
and ^ked to sit down until he came to me. This he did
after I had waited in the little parlour at least two hours,
when the door was opened and a most picturesque gentle-
man, with hair flowing nearly or quite to his shoulders, a
beautiful velvet coat and a Vandyck collar of lace about a
foot deep, appeared, rubbing his hands and smiling ethere-
ally, and saying, without a word of preface or notice of my
having waited so long, * This is a beautiful world, Mr. Pat-
more ! * I was so struck by this remark that it has eclipsed

BOYHOOD. 33

all memory of what occurred during the remainder of my
visit

" Yours veiy truly,

"C PATMORE."

Nevertheless, though he shared so many interests
with his father, there were other matters of even more
vital moment concerning which the two were entirely
apart Peter George Patmore, though an apprecia-
tive critic of poetry and a devoted admirer of Words-
worth, not merely as a poet but also as a philosophic
teacher, disavowed (as has been already stated) all
belief in the supernatural. His son seems from the
first to have known that he could look for no sympathy
from his father in those spiritual intuitions, religious
aspirations, and vague yearnings after the ideal by
which his early life was haunted. Of these he never
made his father a confidant, but cherished them in
secret, regarding them as landmarks in the progress
of his inner life. P. G. Patmore however was too
devoted to him and too observant to be altogether
ignorant of the trend of his son s thoughts, which
moreover discussions that must have followed upon
their more mature and philosophic studies would
have forced him to recognize.

It is possible to trace in Coventry Patmore's writ-
ings some memories of the transcendental impressions
received in childhood. I have already recorded the
effect produced on him in his earliest years by the
beauty of flowers ; and to the end of his life he would
speak with rapture of his first sight of the sea. This
occurred when, at the age of five or six years, he was
taken by his parents to Hastings by coach. Some
fifty years later he opened ** Amelia," his favourite
of all his poems, with the lines :

• Whene'er mine eyes do my Amelia greet,
It is unth such emotion
I. D

34 COVENTRY PATMORE

As when in childhood, turning a dim street,
I first beheld the ocean."

This enthusiasm lasted through his life. His de-
scriptive power, it seems to me, is nevermore strongly
shown than when he is writing of the sea ; and he
revelled in the grand storms which occurred while
he lived at Hastings. It is worth noting, though as
a mere coincidence, that on the first day of his visit
to Hastings he passed his future home " The Man-
sion," even then covered by the gigantic magnolia,
and made up his mind that he would live there
when he grew to be a man. His brother Gurney
indeed quoted this as one of the many cases in
which Coventry had realized his ambition by tenacity
of purpose.

It is certain too that his earliest youth was not
without foreshadowings of the feelings which came to
be the main source of his poetic inspiration. The
following passage, transcribed from his life of Barry
Cornwall, is evidently written as much of himself as
of his friend.

" Those infantine passions, almost peculiar to and perhaps
almost invariably occurring in the childhood of poets, are
events of extreme importance in the history of their souls ;
and the world is probably indebted for one of its very
highest blessings, namely, the imaginative glory which
irradiates its idea of love, to the fact that poets, who are
mainly the; originators and promulgators of that idea, have
had this singular capacity for loving, with the full vehemence
of passion, in the ignorance and innocence of childhood ;
their manhood retaining, amid all its error and obscuration,
the happy memory of that smokeless flame."

That in writing thus Patmore was drawing on his

own experience is no mere inference. He used often,

in intimate talk, to dwell upon his almost infantile

^ loves, and describe the passionate ardour which per-

^' feet innocence served only to intensify. As he grew

BOYHOOD 35

older the idea of love became more and more the
dominant inspiration of his life, and it was in early
years that he received, as he believed, a supernatural
mandate to " sing the praises of nuptial love." I
cannot find that Patmore ever defined the date of
this experience ; but in a letter written to Mr.
Monckton Milnes, not long after the publication of
the " Betrothal,"* he implies that the subject of the
poem had occupied his thoughts for fourteen years.
If this may be taken to indicate the time of the
behest, it must have been received when he was /
about seventeen.,*

During the whole of Coventry's boyhood — indeed
until the financial catastrophe which befell them in
1845 — the Patmores were in easy circumstances.
They had a town and a country house — the former in
Southampton Street, Fitzroy Square, the latter at
High wood Hill, some three or four miles beyond
Hendon — and, except for the time spent in Paris,
Coventry's youth was passed between these homes.
In the country, the love for external nature, of which
the foundation had no doubt been laid by the
great-uncle. Robert Stevens, was developed under the
influence of his father, who shows in " The Mirror of
the Months " the close observation of a true disciple
of Wordsworth. When in London, Coventry studied
various subjects, as the humour took him. For a
time he dreamed of becoming an artist, and in 1 838
was awarded the silver palette of the Society of Arts.

' He writes : " There is fourteen years' conscientious work in the
book, which cannot be said of any Poem since the ' Excursion '
and its • Prelude.' "

• A friend considers the following coincidence worthy of mention.
About the time when the English Legislature was, by the divorce
laws, relaxing the marriage tie, Patmore was devoting his genius
to idealizing it and asserting its permanence in time and eternity ;
the antidote being thus produced fian fiassu with the disease.

36 COVENTRY PATMORE

This enthusiasm however soon left him, though it
pardy survived in a genuine love for pictures.

In 1839 Coventry Patmore was sent to Paris.
He writes :

I \ " When I was about fifteen* years old, my father sent me
> ' to a school — a branch of the CoUfcge de France — at St.
*" ^ Grermains, in order to improve my French ; but as he stipu-
lated that I should have an apartment of my own, and
should live with tiie Head-master's family, learning from
private tutors, and not in the classes, I did not mix with
the other boys, nor learn to talk very fluently. I used to
spend all my Sundays at Mrs. Charles Grore's. She had a
fine apartment in the Place Venddme, and, on Sundays, her
rooms were full of the best literary and political society of
Paris. I was too young to profit, as I might have done
later, by these opportunities. I was very much in love
with her daughter, afterwards Lady Edward Thynne. I
was a very shy boy, and she used to snub me unmercifully.
I learned more German than French during the six months
I spent at this school, and I became a pretty good fencer."

The time he spent there was the only period in his
life during which he was under regular tuition ; and
though it may be supposed that the discipline was
advantageous, he never became reconciled to any
form of academic life, and to the end maintained that
home education was, when circumstances allowed,
generally preferable to that of schools. The foUow-
mg letter from his father, the only one he has pre-
served, throws some light upon his Paris life, while it
is evidence of the wise and thoughtful sympathy with
which P. G. Patmore entered into all that concerned
his eldest and favourite son.

"London, Oct. 31, 1839.

" My Dear Coventry,

" I am so very much pressed with the arrears which
have accumulated during my month's holiday, that I have

* He was actually sixteen.

BOYHOOD 37

been obliged to delay replying to your letter, and must even
now do so in much greater haste than I could wish. But if
I could put it off till I can write at leisure, you may chance
to be put to exiretne inconvenience — in the matter, I mean,
of your futker garments — so I write at once, without its
being possible for me to r^-read your last epistle, with a
view to any questions in it that I may have forgotten. All
you have to do about the trousers is, to order (at any place
that Mr. Cliftie may recommend to you) such a pair as you
like — dark and very warm — and not of an expensive
material — but make an express agreetnent as to price. They
will not require payment — or if they do you had better pay
with your own money — unless you like to ask Mr. Cliftie
to do so. But as you will at all events stay a second three
months, they will be glad enough to let you have what you
want, till I have a safer opportunity of sending a remittance
than a mere letter would be. The hat — (if you must have
one before the spring — though I cannot but think you
might manage without) you had better get at Paris.

'* I am quite satisfied with the style and composition of
your letter and you therefore have no occasion to be dis-
satisfied with them. The only exception to this is, that
you do not punctuate — and consequently that you give the
appearance (but nowhere the reality) of running your sen-
tences into one another — simply for want of tii^fuU stop
and the capital Utter which should in every case follow.
With this exception there is nothing in your letters that
should give you any fear about writing to Mrs. Gore, or
anybody else, whenever you have occasion to do so— though
the only occasion you could or can have of writing to Mrs.
G. would be that of a few simple lines of civility, to avoid
the apparent incivility of sending my packets to her in a
blank envelope, for her to guess who they came from.

" I did not mistake you on the subject of Don Juan — I
understood the impression you spoke of to have been made
by the 2 verses you referred to. But you did not speak of
any other impression, received from other parts of that ex-
traordinary work — as wicked in most parts as it is beautiful
in some — wicked, however, only because it was expressly in-
tended to do mischief. Your opinions about Chesterfield
are quite just, and so are those about Paul and Virginia.
The *Chaumiere Indienne ' of the same writer is still more
beautiful, in the same way, you should read it as soon as

38 COVENTRY PATMORE

you can. But pray, as you have little time at present for
miscellaneous reading, be select in what you do read (if the
phrase is not a bull) — and let it consist exclusively of works
on which Time (the only infallible critic) has put his stamp.
The opinion ol yourself (which follows what you say about
D. Juan) — viz., * thatJIo_work in print could do you any
harm ' — I hope even by this time you have got rid of — so
utterly and almost ridiculously, and so dangerously false is
it If nothing can do you harm^ by parity of reasoning,
nothing can do you good. It is true the happiest of all
arts is that of * turning diseases to commodities ' — of turn-
ing evil to good. But it is the rarest of all arts — and
assuredly not the one in which you have taken your D^^ee.

" Taking the points of your letter seriatim (for I have
turned to it — ^instead of writing in a hurry and at random —
as I first hinted that I must) — I hope there is a little hyper-
bole in your expression of the pleasure you receive at the
* Place.' If your visits there are * necessaries of life ' to
you, what will you do presently, when they must cease ? —
Pray beware on this point — for / cannot afibrd to lose you
whatever you may think of losing yourself. On this point
I will only remind you how m^re than dangerous — how
surely fatal it is, to set our inclinations too fixedly on objects
which we are certain of being soon called upon to for^o.
It gives me great pleasure to find that your first introduc-
tion to that world in which you may soon have to move
alone has been productive of such gratification to you — but
let me beseech you to wear the pleasant and sweet-smelling
garland loosely about your head, lest, when you are called
upon to lay it aside, you may not, in plucking it off, (like
lago's wit) * pluck forth brains and all.' — Verbum sap !

" You are quite right as to the next point in your letter.
I ^ (as you anticipate) most earnestly desire you at once to
abstain from staying at home so long at a time. It seems
to me from what you say, that you sit up much too late,
and get up much too early — and do not take one-tenth part
enough exercise. You must be in the open air at least two
hours every day. You do not tell me an)rthing specific about
fencing and dancing, each of which would go far to remedy
the evil just alluded to. Pray tell me what you are doing
in them. Neither do you tell me anything about your
friend Alexander. Who and what is he ? and why do you
like him "^ ox do you still like him ? — ^Your reason for dis-

BOYHOOD 39

liking the other person alluded to in your letter is a most
valid one, — always provided it exisL But are you sure of
this ? — or may not your deficient knowledge of the lan-
guage have led you to do the party injustice ? — You cannot
by any possibility over-rate the fault of which you speak.
But I doubt if you have not mistaken the fact of its ex-
istence.

"Nothing gives me more pleasure than what you feel
about Miller and his book — and consequently what you feel
about those simplicities of Nature of which his book is so
pleasing a transcript While you preser\'e these two loves
— ^the love of Nature and the love of Books — ^you may con-
trive (if needful) to dispense with all other loves, and to set
at defiance all that is the opposite of love. I will seek an
opportunity of sending you the Book as soon as possible —
but must not send it thro' the Ambassador, unless you could
learn tttost unequivocally that it will not be deemed by Mrs.
Gore in the slightest d^^ree troublesome.

" George goes on Saturday next. My feelings at parting
from him teach me that I am not so strong as I was (about
the r^ions of the heart I mean). If anything should happen
to him I shall not forgive myself for yielding (for the first
time in my life I believe) to other judgments than my own
on a point on which my own was sure to be best, because
it grew out of the strongest interest and the deepest feelings.
In fact, nothing but his apparently irrepressible desire to go
— added to the peculiar constitution of his health — could
have induced me to part from him. He shall write you a
few words with this. In the mean time, I verily believe
that even new I should stop his going, if it were not for the
(unaccountable) delight that he himself seems to take in the
idea of taking leave of all of us, it may be for ever ! Your
presentiment about his squirrel has already come true. It
died some days ago.

" Touching poetry, — if you have any of it in you it will
be pretty sure to come out — whether you will or no— but
do not entice it out — for of all follies there is none so foolish
in its results as the habit of mere verse writing. There is
no harm in the Charivari man's phrenological prognostic \
about your head. But if there is anything in it (in the
prognostic I mean) — or if you think there is anything in it —
it is a reason the more for eschewing verse-making : for I
verily believe there never yet was a poetical genius that was

40 COVENTRY PATMORE

not cursed rather than blessed by the possession — unless it
was Shakespeare.

"Your fun. about the Stevens is very good — but m/A^ ill-
natured— or rather it displays in rather too marked a form
that * turn for satire * of which you spoke in your previous
letter — and which (for anybody but a profest satirist) is
about the most unhappy turn any one can possess. Your
dramatic * situation * on the * Place * was worth the price it
cost — ^that of the fingers of your glove — and considering
that the demolition was at your own cost, I have abstained
(as you desire) from the hysterics. By-the-bye, your next
' situation * (at the 2 fcs. Restaurant) mulcted of half your
dinner, was too serious for a joke. The only way in which
I can account for your submitting to it, is, that the scene in
the * Place ' had taken away your appetite.

" All that I have to complain of in your letter (barring
^\. the * turn for satire ' in the part touching your late visitors)

is the handwriting — which is execrable. If it were any
body else's but yours I would not have even attempted to
read it at any price. Pray reform this. As I was walking
along the street the other day, I set about manufacturing
t ' impromptu jokes for your especial delectation, and one of

them arose out of the above error : (an example of turning
diseases to commodities) I imagined somebody to ask me
if you had improved in your handwriting — and my reply
was — • No — quite the reverse — his hand now is so bad that
it looks exactly as if he had put his foot in it' No great
thing, this, — you will say. Another that I constructed on
the occasion is better. In reference to the present rage for
philosophical improvements in the acts of life, some one was
to observe to you on the danger incurred by crossing the
Alps in winter in the unwieldy Diligences (as high as a
house) during a thunder storm — and you were to add * Oh
there 's no danger from lightning, for tiiey never travel with-
out a conductor,*

" By-the-bye, you never tell me what you do in Paris when
you go there — whether you stay there all day — whether
you dine (or merely call) at the * Place ' — if not, where and
how you dine — &c Not that I am curious about your pro-
ceedings at the * Place ' — but (shall I say it) I am rather
anxious. And this, not so much from what you say, as
from what you do not say. Whenever Telemachus was
silent to his mentor, there was always some cause for fear to

BOYHOOD 41

both. Do not suppose that I (your mentor — if you will let
me be so) have any fear that the ' Place ' should prove to
you a Cal3rpso's Island. But it may prove a still more
dangerous place — a Prospero's Island — without a Prospero
to watch over the welfare of its inhabiUnts. You will tell
me in reply that it is indeed a spot

* full of sweet airs
That give delight and kurt not ; ^i^

and that its Miranda is a Miranda— and what would I i ,,• '
desire more ? — Yes — my dear little boy — ^but you are not a / ,
Ferdinand. But (again you reply) can evil come out of ' f^
good ? — Yes — the greatest of evils out of the greatest of \
goods : — always understanding the axiom of now — middle
of the 19th century. Still, be assured, no evil can come to
you^ even out of evil, much less out of good, while you lay
bare all your thoughts and feelings to me^ and listen to
mine in return, as to those of one who would fain be to you
a Mentor and a Ulysses in one : and believe me there is no /
wisdom so trustworthy as that which is tht* ^fffpring *^f •
love. • The proof of the pudding is in the eating.' Mentor
usied sometimes (not often) to preach to Telemachus ; but I
never preach to you, and never shall : though I am by no
means sure that I may not some day or other — if you should
happen to be cast away on an enchanted Island like that of
Calypso, and wish to take up your abode there, — watch an
opportunity of inveigling you to the top of a convenient
cliflT, and push you into the sea, jump in after you, at the
imminent peril of both our precious lives : which is more
than Mentor did for his — Telemachus — for, being an im-
mortal, he (and he) knew that there was no danger for
either of them.

" Meantime I am

" Ever yours

" P. G. P."

•• P.S. — About the trousers, what 1 mean is that you should
request Mr. Cliftie to let the tailor know that they will be
paid for by the first opportunity of remitting you money —
that is if you object to pay for them out of your own. I
hope you have put on your winter flannels. If you want
anything of an outer coat or jacket kind warmer than that
you have, enquire what is fitting, and let me know in your

N

42 COVENTRY PATMORE

next letter what it will cost &c. qy. a sort of pilot coat ? —
I sent you a Paper some days ago, with some rhapsodizing
of mine about Nickleby. Say if you got it and read it I
will send you another next Saturday, with some more about
Jack Sheppard.

"If you hear, or can learn, anything more about the
Stevens's plans, let me know. I shall not be very sorry if
they don't fix upon St. G. By-the-bye, you have told me
nothing of anybody to whom Dr. B. has introduced you.

" Again adieu

"P. G. P."^

Mrs. Gore had long been an intimate friend and
literary ally of P. G. Patmore. In a letter written to
him by Mr. Plumer Ward, printed in " My Friends
and Acquaintance," the writer speaks of Mrs. Gore
as "your lady-love." The daughter, for whom
Coventry was, as his father detects, conceiving a
boyish passion, was not long after married to Lord
V Edward Thynne. Though the affection was of the
^ nature of "calf-love" (Coventry Patmore was but
V. sixteen and the lady a year or two older), it made an
impression on him which he never lost. It was, as
it were, his matriculation in the school of love, and
initiated him in the mysteries of emotion and feeling
which were the foundation of his later poetry. It
may be noted too that this experience is apparently
coincident in time witLllie supernatural behest which
he believed had been given him, and the inspiration
may have been connected with this passion. Years
afterwards he found a picture which seemed to re-
semble Miss Gore, and had it set in a frame with
shutters. It used to hang in the drawing-room of
the house in which he lived with his first wife, and,
if visitors were curious to know what was behind
the shutters, Patmore would tell them that it was
" the very first * Angel.' "

^ On the back of this is the letter from the grandmother given
in Chapter I., pp. 3, 4.

V

\

BOYHOOD 43

It is worthy of remark that " Vaughan," the hero
of " The Angel/' giving a catalogue of the scenes of
his immature loves, in which Patmore has at least
in one case introduced a personal allusion, excludes
Paris — " In Paris noney His life there was not a
happy one. He was too shy to enjoy the society to
which he was introduced, disliked the course of study,
and retained throughout his life a strong prejudice
against France ; and the exclusion quoted is no doubt
intended as an expression of this antipathy.

The " Charivari man " alluded to is obviously a
phrenologist There was, I am told, one of some
eminence practising in Paris about this time, whose
name was Deville. This was not the only occasion
on which Patmore consulted a phrenologist Some
years later, as he used to tell, he and Tennyson
went together to visit one in London, who had no
means of knowing who they were. He pronounced
that they both possessed all the poetic faculties, but
added, with regard to Patmore, that he was equally
qualified to succeed in business. This opinion made
a considerable impression on Patmore, who was
thereafter always a believer in phrenology. The
" Charivari man " seems to have detected the poetic
gift alone.

It seems too from this letter that Coventry Pat-
more had already made some essays in poetry.
The father advised more wisely then than later,
when he hustled his son somewhat prematurely
into publication. " The Place " is, of course, Mrs.
Gore's house : " George " is the second son : " the
Stevens" are probably an uncle and aunt, and **St
G." is St Germains. To all other allusions the clue
is lost

On his return to London in 1840 Coventry took
more seriously to writing verses, and it is known
that " The River " and " The Woodman s Daughter"

44 COVENTRY PATMORE

were composed about this time.^ His father had his
poems put in type with a view to publication ; but
the poetic impulse was not lasting, and was shortly
superseded by an enthusiasm for science. P. G. Pat-
more, ever indulgent of his son's fancies, fitted up a
laboratory for him in a disused kitchen in the London
house, where Coventry worked incessantly. The
results of his study are contained in a note-book still
preserved. He and his friends believed that he had
madediscoveries of some value, an opinion which could
be tested only by a retrospective appraisement which
it would be difficult or impossible to obtain. His
mathematical and scientific work was combined with
a study of philosophy, especially that of Plato, and of
theology, which was taking more and more complete
possession of his mind as his years advanced.

It is also clear that he was about this time engaged
in a close study of poetry, and especially of Shake-
speare. There can be no doubt that his father's
guidance in such matters was of great advantage to
him. P. G. Patmore was, as we have seen, a true
lover of Wordsworth, and in criticising his work
anticipates much of the best appreciation of our own
day. His judgment is scarcely less sound, though
less fully developed, in the case of Byron, Shelley,
and Coleridge. Now and then he seems to over-
value the work of those who were his personal friends
— of Leigh Hunt for example; and in this case his
son must have caught or inherited his partiality.
Coventry Patmore used to praise *' Rimini " more
highly than he probably would have done but for
some such influence.

^ In the " Prae-Raphaelite Diaries," lately published, there is an
entry for Nov. 7, 1849 : " He (Patmore) himself spent about a year
(from the age of sixteen to seventeen) on The River^ with which,
and The WoadmatCs Daughter^ he is contented in point of finish.
Lilian and Sir Hubert were written in a great hurry for the
publisher."

BOYHOOD 45

He has recorded that '* at the age of sixteen " he
had written the essay which years afterwards ap-
peared in " The Germ," in which he endeavoured to
prove that Macbeth had discussed with his wife the
idea of usurping the monarchy before his interview
with the witches. This is a remarkable perform-
ance, especially for a mere boy, both in close reason-
ing and in cleamg^s of expression. He seems in-
deed to prove his point, if it be assumed that Shake-
speare wrote nothing which was not meant to be
pressed to its extreme logical conclusion ; while the
style in which the paper is written is remarkably
mature, failing only m the flow and facility which he
acquired in later years.

Of his progress in religious thought it is unneces-
sary to speak, as he has recorded this fully in the
autobiography given vol. ii. c. iv. It is clear
that about this time he contemplated taking orders
in the English Church, and his father looked forward
to sending him and his brother Gumey to Cam-
bridge. This idea was however before long given
up : Patmore felt some difficulty in accepting the
Thirty-nine Articles, and was gradually coming to
realize that poetry was his true vocation.

The following extract from his father's book,
" Chatsworth," gives the best available picture of
Coventry in boyhood. It is no doubt to some ex-
tent an ideal portrait, but there is little in it which
does not receive support from fact or from legitimate
inference. It is however as was natural, somewhat
deficient on the side of religious thought.

"The Boy Poet.

" Observe the youth who is seated in the deep recess of
yonder window, withdrawn and apart from all that brilliant
company — unknowing, for the moment, of everything in the
wide world but his own thoughts, and unknowing even
of them but as faint and vague echoes and reflections of

46 COVENTRY PATMORE

those feelings which make up the sum of a boy-poet's life
and soul. See ! his lithe, fragile form is bending over a
book, that is spread open on his knees, his head drooping
towards it like a plucked flower. The pale face is resting
on the clasped hand, over which, and all round the small,
exquisitely modelled head, fall heavy waves of auburn hair,
concealing all but one pale cheek — pale and cold as marble,
but smoodi and soft as a girl's.

" Dead to all the brilliant nothings that are passing
around him, the boy-poet has fallen upon some passage of
his (just at present) sole idol in the temple of poetry,
Milton, and is either lapped in the Elysium of its divine
music, or lost in the mazes of its marvellous imagery, or
transfixed by the flaming sword of its majestic eloquence.

" Last year he owned no mistresses but the exact sciences :
admitted of no virtue or verity but what resolved itself into
* the loves of the triangles ' ; and had very nearly squared
the circle ! The year before, he had dived so far into the
heart and mystery of matter, that the Philosopher's stone
was within his mind's grasp, and the Elixir Vitae was a
thing more than * probable to thinking.' The year before
that. Art was his only idolatry — a marble statue or a can-
vas Madonna his only ' beauteous and sublime of human
life.' — At present, as we have hinted, he is a poet We
would not swear that next year he will not be a person of
sound common sense ; the year after that, a debater at the
Cambridge Union ; the year afterwards a senior Wrangler ;
and

" Oh, most lame and impotent conclusion ; he will, in all
human probability, signalize his arrival at * years of discre-
tion ' by a Tory harangue from a popular hustings, or a
Whig article in the * Edinburgh Review.'

" We have said that Milton was, for the moment, the sole
idol of our boy-poet. But even Milton he regarded, not as
a poet, but only as the nearest approach to the great poeti-
cal archetype existing in his own mind ; and, if he wor-
shipped him, it was <xs an idol, not as a God. Compared
with all other poets (so called) he regarded Milton as a
demi-god compared with mere men. But tried by the test
of the poetry bom of his own dreams, Milton himself ' came
tardy ofl".'

BOYHOOD 47

" We have said, also, that just at present he was a poet
But it was in feeling and aspiration only, not in act He
thought of poetry as of a thing so utterly ethereal and of
the mind, that he scarcely r^^arded it in esse at all — only
in posse ; a thing to be created, or educed out of created
things, in the fulness of time, but not as yet a living entity
— a faith, not a fact — an aspiration of

* The prophetic soul
Of the wide world, dreaming on things to come ; '

not an accomplished purpose. He believed in it, as he be-
lieved in the ultimate perfectibility of man, and that they
would come together — or rather, that each would neces-
sarily bring or include the other. He looked upon Plato as
the nearest to a poet of any human being that ever lived ;
partly because he never wrote a line of poetry, but chiefly
because he excluded poets (so called) from his ideal of a
Republic : for our boy-poet held that all written poetry,
even the highest and purest, does but lower and debase,
rather than exalt and refine, that idea of THE POET, which
he believed in, as he believed in the idea of the God-
head — both being conceptions incapable of expression by
words or even of thoughts — only of being ySr//. Poetry was
to him not merely * a light that never was on sea or land,*
but a light that never was at all ; — a thing TO BE : * the all-
hail hereafter ! ' the great problem of human nature, — not
to be solved, but in the immortal courts of Heaven.

•* Our boy-dreamer believed that if any writer of recent
times had obtained glimpses of what poetry is, and had
succeeded in putting them into words, it was Wordsworth ;
and he only in his ' Ode on Immortality.'

" This, he thought, went nearer to solve the problem of
poetry than anything else that man had ever put into
words : and he reverenced Wordsworth accordingly. But
Wordsworth's writings in general he looked upon as some-
thing very like an antagonism to Poetry — an Egotism, in-
stead of an Idealism — the petty thoughts and feelings and
associations of an individual man, as opposed to the one
great conception of our human nature, as emanating from,
and existing in, its Creator.

" Consistently with this idea, if he had been called upon
to embody Poetry in effigy, through the medium of Paint-

48 COVENTRY PATMORE

ing or Sculpture, he would have given it a form, not of
Apollonian beauty, and immortal youth, but of infamy —
^^f<u€ alone of a sleeping infant — ^sleeping, but dreaming ;
*-an infant's face in the sky, dreaming, amidst the ' clouds
of glory ' which its Creator had breathed about it, and which
the first touch of earth would melt and dissipate."

CHAPTER IV.

EARLY POEMS.

COVENTRY PATMORE had before long
finally abandoned the idea of taking Orders,
and had exhausted his enthusiasm for science.
The publication, in 1842, of Tennyson's collected
poems re-awakened the poetic ambition which had
for some time Iain dormant, and he was encouraged
by his father and his father's friends to enter defin-
itely on the career of a poet. He was taken to
read before P. G. Patmore s literary allies such
poems as he had already written. As early as 1842
Laman Blanchard writes : " My strong and clear
conviction of the extreme beauty and finish of what
I heard read last night remains this morning un-
diminished. They will bear thinking over, and the
impression they make is a lasting one I am sure.
Nothing that Tennyson has done need be despaired
of." There was however scarcely sufficient verse
already written to form a volume : Coventry was
urged by his father to supplement it ^see note p.
44), and the little volume was launched m 1844.

These earlier poems seem to have made rather an
unusual amount of stir : at any rate, possibly owing
to the father's literary connection, they were vol-
uminously reviewed ; and Patmore, as a very young
author would be likely to do, has preserved a perfect
sheaf of cuttings from contemporary papers. These
are interesting mainly as showing the manner of
criticism in vogue more than half a century ago.
They vary from extreme admiration to utter con-

I. E

50 COVENTRY PATMORE

tempt, the one being often as little based on sound
judgment as the other.

" The Spectator " of the day falls foul of the sub-
ject of *' Sir Hubert " in utter ignorance that the
story is derived from Boccaccio. For this blunder
*' Punch " makes fun of " The Spectator," at the same
time giving cordial encouragement to the young
poet. A considerable number of the critics endeavour
to trace Patmore's poetical genealogy. To one he
seems to write " on the exact pattern of Tennyson " :
to another he is the descendant of the " Lake "
poets, especially Wordsworth, through Tennyson :
another holds that he is obviously an imitator of
Browning " in his more intelligible moods " ; while
Leigh Hunt, Barry Cornwall, and "Keaite's" (sic)
seem to another all to have a share in his parentage.
There is safety in numbers ; and any one who had
read (as, of course, no one except the poet and his
family did) all these multifarious and contradictory
endeavours to derive him, might have come to the
conclusion that some of Patmore's characteristics
were conceivably his own. Strange to say, Coleridge
is almost the only modem poet, according to these
critics, whom he has failed to take for his model ;
whereas he is probably the only one from whom
any very distinct influence will be recognized by the
critical reader.

The general impression produced by these critiques
is that they are already somewhat out of date. It is
clear that the new ideas of poetic art, which had been
inaugurated by Wordsworth and Coleridge and
which Tennyson was strengthening and confirming,
had not yet been assimilated by the average critic,
and that any writer who was truly modern had still
to contend against a weight of prejudice.

The following passage from " The Critic " seems
to me amusing enough to be worth transcribing :

EARLY POEMS 5,

-But if nature hath foriridden him to be a poet, the
soono- he finds out his incapacit>^ the better for himself and
his friends ; for it may save to society a valuable worker in
some other walk, while it spares to critics the irksome toil
of fault-finding, to himself the pain of being compelled to
hear unwelcome truths, and to his friends may-hap the cost
of maintaining a lank-ribbed author and a bare-footed
family."

The style of criticism indicated is fortunately
obsolete; not more so perhaps than the idea of
maintaining a family on the proceeds of poetry. On
the whole, roughly weighing the friendly notices
against the unfriendly, one finds a reasonable excess
on the side of encouragement, though it can scarcely
be imagined that Patmore was greatly impressed by
the discernment of those who sat in judgment on his
earliest work.

It is almost needless to say that '' Blackwood's "
review does not figure among these cuttings. This
notice (" Blackwood," August, 1844) is one of the
most savage that ever appeared in " Maga " even in
its unregenerate days. It is probable that an attitude
of fierce hostility would have been assumed whatever
had been the quality of the poems. As the son of
" Tims," the quondam contributor to " Blackwood,"
of the second of Scott — who was actually Christie's,
originally Lockhart's, and essentially " Maga's " an-
tagonist — of the friend of Leigh Hunt, Keats, and
Hazlitt, Coventry Patmore would have been sure in
any case to receive short shrift from the staff of the
magazine.

It is clear from a letter written by Laman Blan-
chard to P. G. Patmore that both considered the
writer of this article to be attacking the father through
the son. Blanchard writes as follows :

•* Injury it cannot do except to your own feelings, which

52 COVENTRY PATMORE

I allow for being ten times stronger, of course, than if you
were ostensibly the person assailed."

This letter, of which the original is not to be found
among P. G. Patmore's papers, is printed in ** My
Friends and Acquaintance," with an obvious error of
date, 1843 for 1844. I gather from it that P. G.
Patmore had suspected Colbum, with whom he had
quarrelled (see p. 7), of having instigated the re-
view; a suspicion which Blanchard, who had suc-
ceeded him as Colburn's editor of the "New
Monthly," is able authoritatively to remove.

P. G. Patmore is evidently quite at fault as to the
authorship, which is still to some extent matter for
conjecture. The article has, I believe, been attributed
to John Wilson (" Christopher North "), who subse-
quently apologized for it. But in the first place, the
apology, according to Coventry Patmore's own
account, need not be taken to imply (nor did Pat-
more himself so take it) that Wilson had actually
written the critique: he merely regretted that it
had appeared in " Blackwood." In the second place,
Wilson does not seem to have been writing for
" Blackwood" in 1844 • ^^ ^^s biography no articles
are assigned to him during that year. Thirdly, the
manner of the article is not his ; and the character
of the parodies, as well as the illustrative allusions,
point altogether in another direction. There are
strong indications of a different hand, that of a usually
kindly critic, whose manner the article fits in all re-
spects but that of virulence. But such virulence was
more common and perhaps less culpable in those days ;
and the writer may have written under an editorial
command to " lay it on." I incline to think that the

hand is the hand of , but the voice is the voice

of " Maga."

The article in question ends thus :

EARLY POEMS 53

" This is the life into which the sh'me of the Keateses (sic)
and Shelleys of former times has fecundated The result
was predicted a quarter of a century ago in this magazine —
nothing is so tenacious of life as the spawn of frogs — ^the fry
must Income extinct in him. His poetry (thank Heaven !)
cannot corrupt into anything worse than itself"

The review is however scarcely less clever than
it is savage and unscrupulous. The defects so re-
lentlessly castigated are for the most part real and
obvious : the merits are of course entirely ignored.
But, as is often the case, the critic s spite '' o'erleaps
itself " by associating with the poet in common con-
demnation the names of "Keates" and Shelley.
" Blackwood " was still impenitent in regard to Keats,
and the writer must, even to readers of that day,
have seriously discounted his condemnation of
Coventry Patmore by thus striking wildly and need-
lessly extending the range of his malignity.

I think however that any one who is at the trouble
of reading this most unfair critique will scarcely
fail to observe how very many defects in the poems
should have been obvious to the young poet's friends,
and how easily the worst of them might have been
remedied. The verses, mostly written by him when
a mere boy, were forced into publication by the father,
himself a professed critic and a dabbler in poetry ; *
had been read certainly to Leigh Hunt and Laman

' In his copy of the 1 853 edition of " Tamerton Church Tower,"
P. G. Plttmore has written the following note in pencil, referring
to this passage from " The Yew- Berry," one of the early poem^
rcpnnted :

" Oh, ghastly corpse of Love so slain ! It makes the world
its hearse."

"This is by far the greatest thing he has yet done. Then ii !
matkivig in the * Ancient Mariner ' so fine." Most readers will find
here evidence thiU paternal partiality had overborne the annotator's
usually sound judgment.

54 COVENTRY PATMORE

Blanchard, probably to Barry Cornwall and others
of standing in the literary world. It seems as-
tonishing that the young writer's attention should
not have been called by some of these to the more
salient faults, and that the father and his friends
should have shown such lack of discernment and
prudence as to allow the volume to face the critics in
so vulnerable a state.

It is curious that it should be stated that these
poems were received with general disfavour. On the
contrary, the balance of opinion shown in the various
reviews is, as I havesaid, distinctly encouraging: but
it is not perhaps unnatural that severity should have
had a longer life than kindliness — " Do roses stick
like burrs ? " The appreciation which the young poet
received privately was however far more judicious
and helpful than that which appeared in print. It
would, I think, be difficult to find wiser or more
sympathetic advice than is contained in the follow-
ing letter written to Coventry Patmbre by Sir E.
Bulwer Lytton, which too is specially interesting in
that it distinctly connects the poems, as to character
and method, with the principles adopted later by the
Prae-Raphaelite painters with whom Patmore was
subsequently associated. He however was never
himself conscious of any such similarity.

"Dear Sir,'

" Your little volume has reached me only within the
last few days — and I gratefully sit down to thank you for the
extreme pleasure I have derived from the Perusal. —

" Your pages abound with unmistakable testimonials of
no common genius ; — not one which does not proclaim the
mind and heart of a Poet — I honestly, and without com-
pliment, think the promise you hold out to us — is perfectly
startling, both from the luxuriance of your fancy, and the

^ This letter is printed exactly as it was written in spelling and
punctuation.

c "-

^

EARLY POEMS 55

subtle and reflective inclinations of your intellect It rests
with yourself alone to fulfil that promise, — for no less
honestly, I may say, tho' with respect, that I doubt if very
large and material alterations in the faculty we call taste, are
not essentially necessary to secure you the Wide Audience
and the permanent Fame which must root themselves in the
universal sympathies, and the household affections of men.
— As yet you seem to me to lean more towards that class
of Poets who are Poets to Poets — not Poets to the Multitude.
— Such were men like Peile Carew,* Herbert, perhaps even
Cowley — and in later days — Coleridge, Shelley, Keates,
and one or two living writers I could name. These are ""^^
writers whom the young Poets are apt to over-estimate —
and, without imitating them precisely, their vein runs too
much into similar channells — In Poetry as in life there must ^v
be something Practical kneaded up with the ideal — in order
for our work to become solid. — However costly the materials ^
for building, we cannot well dispense with cement This ^
practical power it is which the greatest Poets — (and those
below the greatest who have been most popular, and
cherished), eminently possess. It is a something wholly
independent of what the Germans call " form " — and should
please and interest even if turned into prose and into any
language — The " form " shows the Poetical gift and the sub-
stance is more than the Gift — it is the Manhood or the God-
head behind it — I should earnestly recommend to a poet
like yourself, the diligent cultivation of the constructive
faculty, that which gives strong human interest to all that
it builds up — I do not mean merely construction of tale or
story or plot — For Pope, who has little of this kind of con-
structiveness, still never loses sight of the rarer and subtler
division of the faculty — and constructs his very didactics
and moralizing upon a scheme that secures very wide
interest and very pleased and facile attention.

The Poet, in indulging fancy, must remember that it is
not by fancy alone that he secures us — His strong hold is
the heart — and when he deserts that, he must hold the
firmer to our understanding or common sense. — Mere Fancy
writes on Water. —

With regard to form. While you seem to me to excell,
and perhaps to exuberate in original felicity of phrase and

' This should be " Peele, Carew."

56 COVENTRY PATMORE

expression I doubt if you have attended sufficiently to
variety and sustained music in rythm. Most of your poems
are really in almost the same metre, and that one which has
too fatal a facility for that enjoyment in art which is derived
from difficulty overcome, and which makes us prefer the
marble statue to the wax figure. It is little more than the
Printer's division of one line into two that distinguishes the
metre of Lilian from that of the River. — In Hubert, and
others, the running the sense into lines over the rhym, is
not only too often, but to my poor judgment, too inartistic-
ally indulged. — These you call trifles, but Form is never a
trifle and while you obviously over cultivate form to a degree
that some Enemies might call affectation, 3^u also permit
yourself a luxurent carelessness in it, which (pardon me)
is a worse affectation of the two. Nor do I like a repeated
indulgence of that extra-plainness which Wordsworth intro-
duced for a scientific purpose but which he and others have
strangely abused, which introduces into the midst of the
eloquence natural and becoming to the dullest of us when
elevated by sentiment and feeling — a triteness that jars
upon all the strings the Poet has just awakened — Such lines
for instance as :

' Endues the chairs and tables
With a disagreeable life,'

might furnish critics not disposed to be unfair with much

] that might help to thwart popularity by ridicule. — All sim-

/ plicity that fails to touch us by being simple, appears but

. conceit — This is what we understand by the slang word

* Cockneyism.'

" A more material point which I strongly urge you to re-
consider is in that part of your Art which relates to details.
— It seems to me that in common with Tennyson, you
cultivate details to the injury of the broad clear whole. —
The River is indeed a most exquisite poem — but it is by
the details alone that you make it so. — Had you paid equsd
attention to the elaboration of a great conception — [in]
which, after all, the details would have stood out clear,
single and luminous at the close — you would have tripled
the beauty and popularity of the piece. On the other
hand, you have shown how well you can manage this art
of detail in Sect VI. of Hubert, — in which line after line of

r

EARLY POEMS 57

that swelling and most beautiful passage, conduces almost
like a gradual Drama, to the burst at the close — the appear-
ance of Mabel. — This passage is, with one or two slight
exceptions, deserving of the highest and most unqualified
admiration.

•• From all I can conjecture from your poetry and your
youth, I should say that you have only to aspire to be a
Poet to the Masses — to be more practical in that sense of
the word in which it was applied by Goethe to Schiller, to^
cultivate the power of enchaining human interest, to bring(
down your fancy to a level with the Heart and understand-(
ing — in order to achieve a very high destiny. — And it is this
belief that has made me thus volunteer criticisms perhaps
erroneous, and certainly to be received with some suspicion
as coming from one extremely biassed by taste against the
more modem style of verse-composition — but which are in
fact, the highest compliment I can pay to your genius, and
my faith in its future fruits — if you will resolutely prefer
the fruits to the flowers —

" Believe me, dear Sir,

"Very faithfully,

" E. B. Lytton.

"Malvern, July 27th, 1844."

Coventry Patmore came before long to see most
clearly the defects of these early efforts ; even to
depreciate them unduly. He speaks of them as
•• trash " and " rubbish," written under pressure from
his father ; alludes to them in a letter to his friend
Mr. Sutton (printed in vol. ii.) as an object lesson
in faults of style and subject ; and also, when he
came to finally select from and revise them for re-
publication, he seems to have cared so little for them
that, though usually a most accurate castigator of
his own work, he has allowed one or two most ob-
vious errors to pass his censorship.^ But whatever
were their merits or demerits, these poems had a
most important influence on his career, and for this

' Cf. note to ''Amelia," p. 190, single volume edition, 1878.

58 COVENTRY PATMORE

reason they are dwelt on more fully here than would
otherwise have seemed necessary.

For besides the more solid advantages which, as
we shall see, were gained by them at a later date,
Coventry Patmore at once became ** Somebody," and
was admitted on his own merits to literary circles,
which he had previously entered only as his father s
son. Immediately after the publication Lady Bless-
ington writes to P. G. Patmore as follows :

" My dear Mr. Patmore,

" I congratulate you on the charming poems of your
Son. They are indeed beautiful, and fresh, and original as
beautiful. My friend, Mr. Procter, had prepared me for
something charming, but these poems I confess, surpass
my expectations, although they were greatly raised. — I
hope you will make me personally acquainted with the
young Poet when you and he have leisure, and believe me,
" My dear Mr. Patmore,

" Very sincerely yours,

" M. Blessington.
"Gore House, June 14th, 1844."

Not much later John Forster adds to a letter to
P. G. Patmore relating to Laman Blanchard's
melancholy death, the following postscript :

" My kindest regards and remembrances to your son. /
hope he is writing — mindless of all mean and ridiculous
abuse. The day is gone by when such things had the least
effect. He has it in him to be a true poet The highest
ambition may be easy to him."

Leigh Hunt, who had long been an intimate friend
and literary ally of P. G. Patmore, had done his
best to help the young poet by a friendly notice, and
with him Coventry Patmore resumed, on more equal
terms, the acquaintance which had commenced some
years earlier.

Nor was it in literary circles only that his reputa-

EARLY POEMS 59

tion brought him friends. Two young men, who
were devoted to poetry, saw, in the reading room at
Chatteris, a review of the early poems ; and, judging
by the quotations given that a new light had appeared
in the world of poetry, sent for the volume, which
confirmed their opinion, and made them ambitious,
above all things, to make the acquaintance of the
writer. Both of them, Mr. Fryer and Mr. Sutton,
the former the son of a gentleman-farmer near Chat-
teris, the latter subsequently the editor of a Man-
chester paper, succeeded shortly after in gaining an
introduction to Patmore, and became his intimate
friends and correspondents. The letters to Mr.
Fryer are extant in fragments only, but those to
Mr. Sutton (see vol. ii.) form one of the most com-

Elete series to be found ; while Mr. and Mrs. Fryer s
itters to Mr. Sutton give an excellent picture of
Coventry Patmore about the years 1846 and 1847.
Two matters of interest occur in the earlier letters
which passed between these friends. It is clear that
a strange rumour was current, that the poems were
by Tennyson, and that ** Coventry Patmore " was his
nom de plume ; also the allusion to Chatteris as one
of the scenes of Vaughan's ^ early loves was made in
compliment to a lady living there, to whom Mr. Fryer
was then engaged. Mr. Fryer writes to Mr. Sutton,
*• I have just been to see Moxon (Coventry Patmore's
publisher). Patmore and Tennyson are not the same.
Patmore's father is a literary man in poor circum-
stances. Patmore himself is a barrister pupil of//
Barry Cornwall.** (This is the only written evidence
I can find that Patmore ever studied law. I am told
that he did for a very short time think of qualifying
for the bar.) " Tennyson thinks that Patmore may
surpass him." (We may wonder what was the

» The hero of "The Angel."

6o COVENTRY PATMORE

authority for this statement.) " Patmore's appear-
ance is very favourable and he is remarkably
modest"; and much more follows in a strain of
ecstatic hero-worship.

Whether or no Tennyson had at this date seen
Patmore's early poems, and whether he admired them,
must remain matter for conjecture. It seems certain
that their personal acquaintance cannot have com-
menced until at least a year after the publication of
the early poems, and I think it more probable that
it dates from 1846.

CHAPTER V.

HARD TIMES.

ABOUT 1844 P- G. Patmore had begun to
feel the pressure of family expenses; and
there is reason to suspect that his wife's
property had been diminished by mismanagement.
With a view to increasing his resources, he had been
tempted to speculate somewhat wildly in railway
shares. In this he was only following a fashion
which led to the ruin of very many. He suddenly
found himself deeply involved, and was compelled
to leave England secretly and suddenly. His wife
accompanied him; and the only information Coventry
and his brother received of their change of circum-
stances was a letter inclosing a remittance, with an
intimation that they must now depend on their own
resources. Hitherto Coventry Patmore had been
quite free from financial pressure: every whim of
his had been indulged, and what literary work he
had so far done had had no further object than
occupation and fame. The revolution in his circum-
stances was complete ; and he and his younger brother
Gumey — George was presumably abroad — had to
turn their attention to earning a livelihood as best
they could. Somehow or other they managed to
subsist on contributions to periodical literature, and
possibly on translations from French and German.
The only indication (scarcely amounting to evidence)
that they undertook work of the latter kind is a re-
mark which Patmore once made when someone was
speaking of the inaccuracy of some of Bohn's trans-
lations: "What better could you expect of boys in

i'"/)

62 COVENTRY PATMORE

their teens?'* (He would, by-the-bye, have been
\j then twenty-two, but such small inaccuracies are not
unusual with him.) He managed to scrape together
some twenty-five shillings a week, often working for
it, as he said, not less than sixteen hours a day. At
one time his finances were reduced to three and
sixpence, which he recklessly spent on ices — ^and re-
turned home to find a remittance for some article
he had written. No doubt his own and his father's
friends helped him with editors and publishers. Of
such assistance one sole record comes to hand.
Thackeray, who does not seem to have known P. G.
Patmore, or to have had any inducement, except his
natural generosity, to lend a helping hand to the
struggling young poet, wrote to Mr. Nickisson, then
the publisher and apparently quasi-editor of " Fraser,"
as follows :

" October 3rd, 1846.

"My dear Nickisson,

" I beg you 10,000 pardons for not answering your
note. I quite forgot it, that's the truth, until it reproached
me yesterday. Will you pay a special attention to the ac-
companying paper by young Patmore the poet — ^he is him-
self a most deserving and clever young fellow who will be
a genius some day ; and his paper is so odd, humorous and
amusing that I hope you will secure it, and its author as a
future contributor. " Yours ever

" W. M. T.

" I hope the sea-air will do you and Mrs. Nickisson and
Master Nickisson all the good which such good people
deserve. If you will use this for next month I promise you
an article (D.V.), The fact is that young Mr. Patmore
wants help at this present juncture." '

* Quoted from "The Athenaeum," No. 3,110, June 4th, 1887,
to which it was sent with the following letter.

"Thackeray on Mr. Coventry Patmore.

" 12, South Castle Street, Liverpool,
"May 23, 1887.
" I notice you have been drawing attention to the very interest-

A

HARD TIMES 63

I have not been able to ascertain what the con-
tribution was, nor whether it was accepted. Three
sets of verses on "Little Edith" (Edith Procter) by
Patmore were printed in ''Eraser" (December,
1846), two of which were republished in ''Tamerton
Church Tower." In any case the letter stands as
a monument of Thackeray's thoughtful kindness.

One of Coventry Patmore's earliest contributions
of this period was a poem printed in " Punch " (vol.
ix., p. 73), entitled ** Vive la Guerre." The subject is
General Pelissier's alleged act of barbarity in smok-
ing to death 500 Arabs in the caves of the Dahra.^
The poem, which was republished in the 1853 edition
of " Tamerton Church Tower," entitled "The Caves
of Dahra," is in eight stanzas. The verses have a
certain eloquence and "go," but are not worth dwell-
ing upon except as a record of this time of strain.
This lasted for some fifteen months ; long enough to
test Patmore's powers of endurance and strength of
will ; long enough too to cause some detriment to his
health, which had never been robust, and was seri-
ously deteriorated by hard work and poor living. It
was terminated by the kindness of Mr. Monckton
Milnes, afterwards Lord Houghton, who was ever
ready to help distress, especiaJly when suffered by
poets. Patmore years afterwards wrote as follows :

** Lord Houghton was as thoughtful as he was kind and
generous in disposition. Soon after the publication of my
first volume of verses, and when I was without any definite

ing letters of Thackeray's which are now appearing in * Scribner.*
The letter of his, of which I enclose you a copy, has been in my
sister's possession for the last fifteen years, and I think it will in-
terest some of your readers. Can you tell me who Mr. Nickisson
was ? I fancy he was editor of one of the magazines.

" Harold E. Young."
' Cf Kinglake's " Invasion of the Crimea," vol. i., p. 8, where
see note, which appears in some measure to exculpate Pelissier.

64 COVENTRY PATMORE

views of a profession, and in the greatest peril of being com-
pelled, y&»/^ de mieiiXy to take to that of literary hack and
magazine writer, I met him at a party — almost the first I
ever went to. He sought me out and asked me, without
any preliminaries, whether I should like a place in a Govern-
ment Office. In a few months* time, he got me an appoint-
ment as Assistant Librarian in the British Museum — ^the
position of all in the world best suited to me."

This memorandum seems to have been written as
late as 1882, and may perhaps be reconciled with
the following story, which Mr. Gosse tells as related
to him by Mrs. Procter. It is far more likely than
not that the meeting which Patmore records took
place at her house. We have only to suppose that
Mr. Milnes had previously seen Patmore without
making himself known to him.

" After a dinner at her house in 1846, Monckton Milnes
\ / said to her in the drawing room, * And who is your lean
^ young friend with the frayed coat-cuffs ? ' * Oh, Mr. Milnes,*
she replied, * you would not talk in that way if you knew
how clever he is and how unfortunate. Have you read his
" Poems " ? ' Milnes took them away in his pocket, and
wrote to her next morning, * If your young friend would
like a post in the Library of the British Museum, it shall be
obtained for him, if only to induce you to forget what must
have seemed my heartless flippancy. His book is the work
of a true poet, and we must see that he never lacks butter
for his bread.' "

Not long after, Patmore received the following
letter :

"April II.

"My dear Sir,

" I have long had a fancy that you might like to
have some regular employment in the world of books in the
British Museum, and I wrote lately to the Archbishop of
Canterbury, suggesting you as a fit person for such a situa-
tion. He was unable to give me any satisfactory answer,
but recommended, if it suited you, that you should see some
of the authorities and secretary of the Museum, and find out

HARD TIMES 65

what, if any, place was likely to come vacant, and what it
would suit you to undertake.

" I enclose you a note for the librarian Mr. Panizzi, to whom
you can be quite confidential and who would, I believe, help
you in any way in his power. You had better also see Mr.
Forshall ihe Secretary.

" If however you feel that this kind of employment would
not be agreeable to you, pray tell me so at once and I will
see if anything can be done for you in any other quarter.
" Believe me,

" Yrs. very truly,

"Rich. M. Milnes."

There can be no doubt that Patmore eagerly
followed up this introduction. But it was not till
some months later that the appointment was actually
made. It is said that the authorities hesitated on
the ground that he knew so few languages. How-
ever, the following letter was dispatched by the
Secretary on Nov. 18, 1846.

" Mr. Forshall has the pleasure to acquaint Mr. Coventry
Patmore that the Principal Trustees have nominated him to
be one of the supernumerary Assistants in the Department
of Printed Books in the British Museum.

" If Mr. Patmore will call on Mr. Panizzi, he will learn at
what time he may commence his engagement, and every
necessary particular respecting his duty.

•* British Museum."

Mr. Monckton Milnes's kindness to Patmore was
the starting-point of a friendship which lasted to the
end ; and it was not long before Patmore had the
opportunity of doing something towards repayment
of the debt which he owed him.

Milnes's " Life and Letters of Keats/' published in
1848, had probably been some time in preparation,
and it has long been known that Patmore rendered
Milnes considerable help with it, though of what

I. F

66 COVENTRY PATMORE

kind and to what extent can apparendy never be
ascertained. Patmore preserved but few letters
from Monckton Milnes, and these throw no light on
the subject. Some of Patmores letters to Mikies
are however extant. It is probable that these are
but a portion of those received, and the only evidence
they afford is that Patmore had, as I think correctly,
assigned to his own father some articles on Keats
in " The London Magazine" which had previously
been attributed to Hazlitt.* (This information how-
ever was given for the second edition, 1863.) The
only other reference to the work is in a letter of
Jan. 19, 1863, in which Patmore requests Monckton
Milnes to omit a passage in one of Keats*s letters
to John Hamilton Reynolds, which he evidently
thinks disparaging to his father.* This request shows
how almost morbidly sensitive Coventry Patmore
was about all that concerned his father's reputation.
It seems to me scarcely necessary to suppose that
Keats in writing the passage meant to imply any
contempt

It is also known that a letter of Keats's, in Coven-

* P. G. Patmore was thought by many to have modelled his style
on that of Hazlitt, who was one of the authors parodied in "Rejected
Articles." W. C. Hazlitt states that P. G. Patmore and others
used to found their theatrical criticisms on William Hazlitt's
opinions. In this, as in all other cases, W. C. Hazlitt's statements
must be taken with a very liberal pinch of salt ; but they may
be considered at least to show the trend of literary gossip, and to
prove that the elder Patmore was thought to be somewhat indebted
to Hazlitt for both the style and the material of his writings.

' The passage indicated occurs in a letter dated May 2, 1818.
"If I scribble long letters I must have my vagaries ... I must
play my draughts as I please, and for my advantage and your
erudition, crown a white with a black, or a black with a white, and
move into black or white, far and near as- 1 please — / must go
from Hazlitt to Patmore^ and make Wordsworth and Coleman
play at leap-frog, or keep one of them down a whole half-holiday at
fly-the-garter : from Gray to Gay, from Little to Shakespeare, . . .'*

HARD TIMES 67

try Patmore's handwriting, was found among Lord
Houghton's papers.^

This is all the evidence I have been able to obtain
of Patmore's co-operation, though it is probable that
further assistance was given verbally, or in letters
which have been destroyed. There is however no
acknowledgmentofPatmore's assistance in the preface
to the book, and it is unreasonable to suppose that
more than moderate help was given ; while the style
of the work, which nowhere resembles Patmore's,
explodes the theory that it was in great part written
by him.

Further evidence of Patmore's gratitude is found
in the dedication to Milnes in 1853 of the volume of
poems entitled " Tamerton Church Tower," and also
in the following letter :

" Library British Museum.

"Monday, July 10, 1848.

'• Mv DEAR Mr. Milnes,

'* I wish very much that my little boy should be
called by a name, which shall remind him of his father's
debts to one, but for whose kindness there would have been
no little boy to be named.

"Will you impose upon me an additional obligation to
gratitude by conferring upon my son, in your name, a con-
tinual lesson of thankfulness ? If you are disposed to grant
my request, you will be pleased to know that Mrs. Procter
will be associated with you in this kindness to
" Your affectionate friend,

" Coventry K. Patmore.

" R. Monckton Milnes, Esq.''

For Patmore's appointment at the Museum had
secured him a competence, though a small one ; and
not many months passed before he married Emily
Aueusta Andrews, with whom he had been ac-
quamted for some little time.

* Colvin's " Keats," p. 225. See also a letter of Patmore's to
Mr. Sutton, vol. ii., which shows that he was in possession of
fome of Keats's MS. letters in 1847.

CHAPTER VI

THE BRITISH MUSEUM

FROM the end of 1846 till the beginning of
1866, when he retired, Patmore worked
steadily at the Museum, and was mainly en-
gaged on the catalogue of books, which was greatly
in arrear. He was considered there a diligent
though not specially qualified assistant ; but it was
scarcely to be expected that one possessing his keen
literary instincts would confine himself to the merely
perfunctory routine, or resist the temptation of dip-
ing into the books which passed through his hands,
'e writes later :

?i'

" I did a good deal more than the average work ; yet,
during my twenty years of service, I may say that I read
tens of thousands of books ; for I never passed one in any
language I could read without looking into it and ascer-
taining its real character and value. At the end of my
time of service, I had come to the conclusion that, of the
forty miles of shelves in the Museum, forty feet would con-
tain all the real literature of the world."

His constantly increasing interest in Theology
made it specially difficult for him to deny himself a
study of such religious books as came before him,
and I remember his telling me that he had been
gready struck by the abundance and high quality of
such work produced in France. Occasionally too,
if he had a poem on hand, his cataloguing work had
to give way ; and his colleagues recall times of inspi-
ration when he would write off a great number of

THE BRITISH MUSEUM 69

lines in an exceedingly short time. Dr. Garnett
writes:*

"His composition was rapid. I have frequently seen /
tu-enty or more lines which he had written, he said, in the
last half-hour, and refashioning was rarely needful, though
he was an unwearied corrector in minor details."

Sometimes too the routine work would be inter-
rupted for an interesting conversation. Mrs. Fryer
writes:

"March 17, 1847.

" I daresay Alfred has written you a full and true account
of his town adventures ; how he kept Patmore away from his
Library table for two hours, talking and walking up and
down the public rooms as if they were demented, till some
common-sense thought toll'd them th^ passing hour."

He seems to have been greatly respected by his
colleagues, though his reticent and self-contained -
manners kept him somewtiat aloof from gefieral
intimacy.

In the article quoted above Dr. Garnett says :

•* When I came, a mere lad, to work in the Library of the
British Museum, I was introduced to all my colleagues with
one, doubtless accidental, exception. I was some time
before finding out who the tall, s(>are, silent man was, who,
alone of the assistants, sat in the King's Library ; who,
though perfectly urbane when he did converse, seemed
rather among than of the rest of the staff, and who appeared
to be usually entrusted with some exceptional task, now
cataloguing a mighty collection of sermons from the King's
Library gallery, now the pamphlets of the French Revolu-
tion. His diligence was certainly exemplary, though he
was not considered a particularly able assistant from the
librarian's point of view, and made no pretensions to exten-
sive linguistic attainments or bibliographic lore"

Mr. Richard Holmes, the Queen's Librarian, who
was considerably his junior, confirms this record, and

"Saturday Review," Dec 5, 1896.

70 COVENTRY PATMORE

tells me that Patmore's silence and pre-occupation
isolated him from the camaraderie of the Museum,
but that his poetic reputation made him a subject of
special interest ; that his juniors felt proud of any
notice he might take of them, still more of an invita-
tion to his home.

His acquaintance with persons of influence enabled
him too to give special support to his colleagues in
their not infrequent endeavours to improve their
position. Probably the following letter to Monckton
Milnes refers to some movement for increase of
salary.

" British Museum.

"August I, 1859.
" My dear Mr. Milnes,

"I called a few days ago to thank you for the
serviceable part you took in the discussion of the Museum
business. We all here consider that you have served us
most materially and that our prospects are now far better
than they were before the debate. Mr. Gladstone alone
stands between us and our hopes. Had he prolonged his
stay one day in the Ionian Islands, we should have gained
our point ; but his vote turned the decision of the Trustees
against us, in the very large meeting which took place the
day after his return. So I am informed. . . .
" Believe me,

" My dear Mr. Milnes,
" Ever sincerely yours,

" Coventry Patmore."
" R. M. Milnes, Esq."

There is evidence that he was on good terms with
his superiors, while his connection with the press gave
him opportunities of supporting the interests of the
Museum, and of calling public attention to the im-
provements made under Mr. Panizzi's able rule.
He writes in 1872 :

" Panizzi was the most able administrator I have known.
He was very rough and Bismarckian in his manners, but he

THE BRITISH MUSEUM 71

was never ofiensive to any of his subordinates so long as
they did their duty. At a party at Lord Stanhope's or
Lord Stanley's of Alderley — I forget which — I was on one
side of an open door, and overheard Thackeray and some-^
body else congratulating Panizzi on an article which had
just appeared in the ' Edinburgh Review ' about the new
domed reading-room and the library of the British Museum
in general. He assured them that he had not the least idea
who wrote it This was odd, because I had written it, and
had submitted it to the perusal of Mr. Jones,* the Keeper,
before printing it"

In 185 1 Patmore employed his position at the
Museum and his influence with his colleagues to
promote a patriotic scheme, which subsequently de-
veloped into the formation of rifle corps through
the whole of the country. The account of this may
be given in Patmore *s own words.

"In 1851, when England was a good deal excited by the
threats of the French Colonels and by suspicions of the in-
tentions of Louis Napoleon, who had declared that he
• represented a defeat * (Waterloo), and implied that he
meant to avenge it, there was a good deal of talk about the
propriety of organizing volunteer riflemen. Thinking that
an ounce of action might be worth a ton of talk, I went
round to my colleagues at the Museum, and all but one
agreed to start a club, in which we should learn how to
handle a rifle, and to endeavour to obtain members enough
to justify us in asking permission of the Government to drill.
I immediately wrote a letter to * The Times,* saying what
we had done ; and several persons of eminence responded
to it with offers of personal assistance. I asked Alfred
Tennyson to help, and he took up the matter ardently, giving
a handsome donation towards our expenses and writing
and publishing in * The Times ' his enthusiastic * Riflemen
form.' James Spedding and others also helped with money.
We called a meeting, and soon found ourselves able to make
up a thousand men, willing to spend ten pounds each on
their equipment. We then wrote to the War Office for

* Mr. J. Winter Jones, the Keeper of the Printed Books.

72 COVENTRY PATMORE

permission to drill. After some correspondence the offer
and permission were refused ; but, shortly afterwards, the
Government issued its appeal to the country for the forma-
tion of Volunteer corps — an appeal which probably would
never have been made but for our offer and the expediency
of arrogating the initiative of the movement to the Govern-
ment itself Rifle corps were at once formed all over the
country — two or three before ours got into working order.
I used to go through the drill in Westminster Hall, bat
soon found it too e^diausting for my strength."

This memorandum, written many years later,
shows a confusion of two distinct periods. The
" threats of the French Colonels " are antedated by
more than six years. Tennyson s " Rifle-men form "
appeared in 1859. Patmore may have confused this
poem with " The Third of February," which belongs
to the earlier time. He is however right about the
date of the letters in " The Times," and extant cor-
respondence shows that he had been in communica-
tion with Tennyson about the later poem.

This further memorandum gives additional details:

" After my little Idyll * Amelia ' I am prouder of nothing
than of having started the modem Volunteers. Almost im-
mediately after the * Coup d'Etat ' I got together some of
my colleagues at the British Museum, and wrote a letter
signed C. P. to * The Times ' to say that a real nucleus was
then formed for what others were only talking about
Mr. Denison, the Deputy-Judge-Advocate for Scotland,
called on me at the Museum in consequence of my letter,
and my little first step astonished Alfred Tennyson, James
Spedding, Mr. Hans Busk, who was a member of the * Vic-
toria Rifles ' — the last remnant of the Volunteers of the early
part of the century — and several others. We got up a meet-
ing somewhere in St James's Street, and, having obtained a
large list of names to form our first * Regiment * we wrote
to the then Minister of War for permission to drill. After
some correspondence, in which the Minister was careful to
ascertain our numbers and the expense we were prepared
to go to, the permission was refused, the Government
apparently deeming it politic that the initiative should seem

THE BRITISH MUSEUM 73

to come from themselves ; for, about twelve months after-
wards, they published the permission we had sought, but of
course without any reference to our proposal.

The letter alluded to is as follows (Jan. 22, 1852) :

"A RIFLE CORPS.

" 71? the Editor of The Tunes.

" Sir, — Having read letter after letter in the newspapers
recommending the immediate adoption of means whereby
our capabilities of self-defence may be increased, and having
suffered daily disappointment in my expectation of an an-
nouncement that something had been done towards the for-
mation of organized societies for rifle practice, I resolved to
try what I could do by way of taking Hit premier pas, which,
in this instance, seemed to me to be neither costly nor diffi-
cult. I am one of a large number of gentlemen employed
in a public establishment of an eminently pacific character.
I proposed that some of us and of our friends should com-
bine for the purpose of learning, in the cheapest and quickest
way, how to handle a rifle. The first 19 I spoke to instantly
agreed to the proposal : the 20th refused, because he was
already engaged as a member of a similar association. As
most of us are not free till past 4 o'clock in the afternoon,
we are to put up with lamph'ght practice in a London rifle
gallery, until the spring evenings allow of our sallying forth
a few miles, once or twice a week, into the country. A
moderate weekly subscription will pay for the gallery and
ammunition, and an entrance fee is to be imposed, for the
purchase of a few good ordinary rifles — one to every five or
six of us — and these, after serving our immediate purpose,
are to be distributed among the members, as prizes for
skilful shooting, at the end of a fixed period. Within a
week from this time we shall be in full operation ; and, from
the eagerness with which the plan has been entered into by
all to whom 1 have spoken, I have little doubt but that our
example, if made known through your columns, will be
followed by many thousands of the young men of London
and the large provincial towns. Before Parliament has
been open a week we shall certainly be able to present a
numerously and most respectably signed petition for Gov-
ernment assistance and organization. C. K. P."

74 COVENTRY PATMORE

This caUed forth the following reply :

-RIFLE CLUBS.

" To the Editor of The Times.

" Sir, — I read in * The Times' of to-day a letter on the
formation of societies for rifle practice with a view to
national defence, which bore the signature of ' C K. P./ but,
unfortunately, no address. As that letter seemed to me to
be one of sense and spirit, to be written in real earnest, and
to have a definite practical bearing, I am anxious to lose
no time in endeavouring to co-operate with the writer in his
honourable undertaking ; and I hope that by publishing this
letter you will assist me to put myself into communicaticMi
with lum.

" I am. Sir, your obedient servant,

" Stephen Charles Denison.

" 3, Southwick-place, Gloucester-square, Jan. 22."*

The printed circular issued by the committee
which was formed has been preserved, vrith a letter ^
from Patmore to William AUingham, inviting him to
join the movement

" Metropolitan Rifle Club,

" 7, Waterloo Place, Pall MalL

" In consequence of the very numerous applications
respecting this Association, the Committee think that a
statement of their views, in originating the Club and its
sections, may be useful to those who are desirous of joining
it, and of knowing what the extent of their liabilities,
personal and pecuniary, will be.

" The primary motive in forming this Association is the
necessity of making such a demonstration of power, as shall
abate the nuisance to which of late years this great country
has been subjected, from the alarms caused by alleged pro-
jects of the Invasion of our shores and the pillage of our
towns. Let us, as Englishmen, stand side by side, for our
defence, assured that when we are so united and armed, no
foreign foe will have the hardihood to attempt to violate
them. The immunity from Invasion which our shores have

* Printed in vol. ii. ; the date is Feb. 1852.

THE BRITISH MUSEUM 75

for so many years enjoyed, is no warrant for its continu-
ance, and the sense of security which it is so apt to inspire,
might lead to the most dangerous, if not fatal results:
steam has bridged the narrow seas ; and, although in the
case of Domestic differences a few days sufficed for that
imposing demonstration which is fresh in every recollection,
such an impromptu organization would be comparatively
worthless as a means of resisting foreign aggression. Time
is an essential : arms cannot be made for thousands in less
than many months: men, were they even ready, cannot
handle them skilfully without long practice; it is necessary
therefore, for the future security of the country, that it
should possess, in the readiness and organization of its
citizens, a force which would materially assist in repelling
the incursions of any foreign power.

"The Committee of this Club therefore propose the
following as their idea of the essential conditions of its
constitution.

" I. That every person joining it does so to acquire the
use of a weapon which in time of need may add to the
defence of his country.

"II. That this Association being a Rifle Club, its meet-
ings shall be for the purpose of perfecting its Members in
the skilful use of the weapon at a mark.

"III. That it will be necessary for this purpose that the
Members possess a supply of Rifles of the same make and
calibre, so that, if required for active service, the same
ammunition and projectile may be employed by all.

" IV. That in the event of the Government requiring the
assistance of the Club or its section.s, the Members shall not
be called upon to leave the locality they belong to and
are most interested in defending, except those who may
volunteer to do so.

" V. That every person on joining the Club shall intimate
to the Secretary, in writing, his wish to do so, and his willing-
ness to conform himself to its regulations, and shall pay
the Treasurer the sum of los. as an Entrance Fee, and such
Subscription, not exceeding one Guinea, as may hereafter
be found necessary.

"In conclusion, being well assured that there are many
who, although prevented by circumstances from giving their
personal services in aid of this patriotic movement, would
yet most readily subscribe towards the defrayment of the

76 COVENTRY PATMORE

expenses incurred in securing ourselves s^ainst a^;gression
and spoliation, the Committee will be happy to receive the
subscriptions of such persons, to be applied to the general
purposes of the Association, one of which is to procure a
supply of Rifles for the use of those members who may not
be able or disposed to purchase them.

" By order of the Committee,

" G. BORLAS Childs, Hon. Sec
" Lake Price, Esq., Treasurer.
"Central Committee, Feb. 2nd, 1852."

Patmore used in conversation to assert that he
had been the first to start the Rifle Corps movement
of this period. His letter to " The Times " is not
however quite the first that appeared : there are
letters on die subject in the issues of Jan. 15 and 21.
These however merely advocate the movement in
general terms, whereas Patmore s letter is not only
specific, but shows that the idea had already taken
shape among his friends. I have not been able to
discover any trace of such a movement in 185 1. In
1852 a considerable number of pamphlets on "Na-
tional Defence " were issued ; among them one by
Sir Charles Napier. The earliest of these seems to
be the republication of " A Letter and Postscript to
* The Times' *' (Jan. 30 and Feb. 5, 1852). Although
it is impossible to speak with certainty on the point,
Patmore's claim to have been the first definitely
practical advocate of the movement after the Coup
cCEtat seems to be justified.

In 1859, when his family expenses were increas-
ing, Patmore was a candidate for the Librarianship
of the Colonial Office, which however he failed to
obtain. The candidature was the occasion of his
receiving cordial testimonials both from Panizzi and
from Mr. Winter Jones.

His health, always precarious, having been seri-
ously impaired by anxiety for his wife, and by a very

THE BRITISH MUSEUM ^^

serious illness which followed her death in 1862, in
the following year he applied to the Trustees for three
months leave of absence,^ which was readily granted,
and was subsequently extended. He left England
in 1864, and the holiday was mainly spent in Rome,
where, as is related more fully elsewhere, he joined
the Roman Catholic Church and became engaged to
his second wife. In the same year he presented to the
Museum a collection of MS. plays which had come
into his father's possession, and were by him attri-
buted to Sheridan,' and which had been made the
subject of an article by Coventry Patmore. The gift
is thus acknowledged by the Librarian :

" British Museum,

"Nov. 22, 1864.
"Dear Sir,

** The Trustees have most willingly accepted your pre-
sent of the collection of MS. plays which accompanied your
letter to me of the 12th October, and they have directed
me to return you their special thanks for your liberality in
enabling them to place these interesting literary curiosities
within the reach of Students and the public in general.

" I am.

" Dear Sir,

•* Yours truly,

"A. Panizzi.
" Coventry Patmore, Esq."

' The medical certificate which enabled him to obtain this
holiday is as follows :

" 56, Harley Street,

"Oct. 13th.
" I beg to state that I find as the result of close personal ob-
servation that Mr. Coventry Patmore's health is failing and that
he is now unequal to the performance of his duties in the Museum
with efficiency or with satisfaction to himself. I believe that an
attempt to persevere in London work will lead to a serious in-
crease of the limg mischief for which it was necessary for Mr.
Patmore to spend the winter of 1863-4 in Italy.

"(Signed) Rich. Quain, M.D."

' In " My Friends and Acquaintance."

78 COVENTRY PATMORE

His second marriage had made it unnecessary^
and his still precarious health seemed to render it
undesirable that he should continue his work. He
took professional advice ^ on the subject and decided
to retire from the Museum. In 1866 he was awarded
a pension, which he drew until his death.

The following letter announces the grant of the
pension :

'* British Museum,

" 6 January, 1866.

" Dear Sir,

''I have the pleasure of informing you that the
Lords Commissioners of Her Majesty's Treasury jiave been
pleased to award to you a retired allowance of one hundred
and twenty-six pounds thirteen shillings and four pence
(jf 126 lis. 4//.) a year.

'* This is the highest amount which their Lordships could
allow you under tihe provisions of the Superannuation Act,
and I hope you may enjoy it for many years.

"Yours faithfully,

"A. Panizzi.
" Coventry K. D. Patmore, Esq."

Patmore always considered that he had been most
generously treated by the Museum authorities. He
also reproached himself — quite needlessly, as he is
acknowledged to have been a diligent worker — for
having lost time through a tendency to afternoon
somnolence, which he could conquer only by allow-
ing himself "forty winks." He had intended his
gift of the manuscript plays to serve as an ac-

» This is the certificate which he presented with his request to
be allowed to retire :

" I certify that I have been attending Mr. Coventry Patmore
for some months, and that I have advised him to discontinue
sedentary occupations and reside entirely in the country. He has
threatenings, and indeed already some measure, of organic disease
of one lung, and it is imperatively necessary that he should adopt
means, and direct the whole mode of his life, to arrest its progress.
"(Signed) Chas. Gage Brown, M.D."

THE BRITISH MUSEUM 79

knowledgment of the Trustees' kindness in granting
him long leave of absence, and some years after-
wards an opportunity occurred of conferring on the
Museum a more substantial memorial of his grati-
tude and a compensation for any working time (
which he had lost. In 1880 he presented to the
Trustees a valuable copy on vellum of the works of
St. Thomas Aquinas. This had been eagerly de-
sired for the library by Panizzi, who had, soon after
Patmore's admission to the Museum, advocated its
purchase.

The following letter was received by him in ac-
knowledgment of the gift :

"27th February, 1880.

"Sir,

" I have had the honour to lay before the Trustees
of the British Museum the present which you have been so
good as to make to them of a copy, in seventeen volumes,
bound in twenty-one, of the works of St. Thomas Aquinas
printed on vellum in the year 1570-71, being the Dedica-
tion-copy presented to Pope Pius V., and which afterwards
came into the {x>ssession of Philip II. of Spain.

*• The Trustees directed me to convey to you the expres-
sion of their special thanks for this very valuable donation.
" I shall have great pleasure in causing the enclosure in
your letter to me of the 9th inst, relative to the donation,
to be inserted in the first volume of the work.
" I have the honour to be. Sir,

" Your obedient Servant,

" Edw. a. Bond.

"Coventry K. D. Palmore, Esq."

Patmore went to the Museum to see his gift in its
place, and writes :

•• I saw my St. Thomas placed in a glass case. The
keeper of the printed books — Mr. Bullcn — ranks it as one
of the two most magnificent books in the whole library."'

* It is of course quite impossible to believe that Mr. Bullen said
this seriously. There may have been some qualifying clause, as

8o COVENTRY PATMORE

Patmore, at any rate for a time, rejoiced in his
release from regular duties. I think too that a
complete change of occupation was profitable to his
development as a poet, and that nothing could have
been more serviceable to him, physically or mentally,
than the life which ensued on his retirement, spent
as it was almost entirely in the open air, while he
was occupied in developing his newly-acquired estate
in Sussex. Nevertheless he often, in after years,
looked back with pleasure on this period of regular
and punctual employment, and occasionally t^ked
of seeking re-admission to the Museum, though he
never actually took any such step. But the twenty
years he had passed Uiere, though associated with
straitened means, precarious health, and the most
poignant sorrow of his life, had ceased to be painful
in retrospect, and had, as he thought, brought with
them an excellent discipline, the relaxation of which
did not seem to him to have been altogether advan-
tageous. He also recognized his debt to the Museum
for a close friendship and literary alliance with Dr.
Garnett, in whom he had found a sympathetic ad-
viser and critic of his poetical work, who has done
as much as anyone to create an intelligent apprecia-
tion of his writings, and to whose help in compiling
this memoir I am glad to acknowledge my deep
obligation.

" of its kind" It would however be characteristic of Patmore,
always optimistic about his own concerns, to forget the qualification.
For further particulars about the book, the reader is referred to
Appendix VI., end of vol. ii.

CHAPTER VII

THE PRiE-RAPHAELITES

COVENTRY PATMORE'S first volume of
poems had shown certain peculiarities of
method which had been discerned and clearly
defined by Sir E. B. Lytton in the admirable criticsil
letter which has been printed (pp. 54-57). He had
noticed an excessive and undue departure from con-
ventional rules, which, though they sometimes prove
destructive of originality and force, deserve to be
taken into account as the result of accumulated ex-
perience ; a tendency to indulge in a vivid presenta-
tion of detail which, unless it be kept in due subor-
dination to the more general effect, is antagonistic to
unity and proportion ; and an intrusion of common-
place or prosaic ideas and objects such as no power
can raise to the true domain of poetry.

A company of artists, destined to be widely known
as the Prae-Raphaelite Brotherhood and to exercise
an important influence on contemporary art, was at
about the same time formulating the ideas which
were, a few years later, to be proclaimed both in
theory and in practice. This is certainly not the
place for any attempt at a full analysis of the princi-
ples of the Brotherhood ; but it may be noted briefly
that their aims were, to throw over the stale conven- ^
lions by which art was becoming strangled ; to return *
to a direct study of nature, considering no represen-
tation of even its least important accessories unworthy
of attention and labour ; and to enlarge their range
of subject by the inclusion of everything which
I. G

82 COVENTRY PATMORE

could make any legitimate appeal to the aesthetic
sense.

The similarity of aim and performance in the
earlier work of the painters and of the poet are
sufficiently manifest both in strength and weakness;
and though Patmore himself never recognized any
community of aim, the Prae-Raphaelites found them-
selves in special sympathy wiUi these early poems.
William Rossetti writes :

" Mr. Patmore's first volume of poetry, having come out
in 1844, was soon afterwards reviewed with commendation
in a publication that Leigh Hunt was bringing out My
brother and I read that review and were impressed by it,
and soon we got the book — [this] must I suppose have been
in 1 845, if not in 1 844. We admired the poems enormously,
and I daresay that in the course of a couple of years we had
read every one of them through 20 or 30 times. Gabriel was
certain to talk about them to fellow-students at the R.A.,
etc., and more especially to Hunt, Millais, and Woolner."

Mr. F. G. Stephens too bears testimony to his
own enthusiasm for these poems, which was shared
by his friends. They used, he says, to carry the
volume about with them constantly, and to read it at
every moment of leisure.

It was not however till some years later that Pat-
more formed personal relations with the Brotherhood.
He records his first introduction to them in the
following note. His repudiation of resemblance may
be accepted as regards any conscious theory, though
in practice the similarity must be admitted.

" Soon after I was first married, and before I had pub-
lished anything but my little volume of 1844, Thomas
Woolner introduced himself to me and made me known to
his P.R.B. friends, Millais, Holman Hunt, Gabriel Rossetti,
and others, who claimed me as the poetical representative
of their principles and got me to give two or three articles
to the *Germ.' I don't think that either by theory or
^ practice I had any particular claim to be regarded as a

THE PRyE-RAPHAEUTES

83

P.R.R However, their mistake was very lucky for me, since
they were all most interesting persons to know, and one or
two of them became close and life-long friends."

The actual date of Patmore's first acquaintance
with the P.R.B. is given by Mr. William Rossetti :

-The P.R.B. was started in Sept. 1848; but I do not
find in my papers Kny personal mention of Mr. Patmore till
23 Sept, 1849, when it is stated that Woolner had received
an appointment to dine with him, and that P. [Patmore]
had already been reading with approval some of W.'s
[Woolner's] MS. poems. I don't rightly remember how it
is that W.'s poems had been introduced to P.'s notice ; it
must I think have been through Mrs. Orme [sister of the
first Mrs. Patmore] or through a Russian gentleman, Vom
Bach, who was known to the Ormes and had some employ-
ment at the British Museum. Then, through W., all the
other P.RB.'s soon got to know Mr. Patmore personally —
Millais, Hunt, Stephens, Gabriel, myself, and perhaps Col-
linson, though as to this last I have no distinct recollection.
The one who saw most of him was I suppose in those early
years, Woolner ; next in order would come myself, Gabriel,
Hunt, Stephens, Millais. P. must have been a year or two
older than the oldest P.R.B., and we all looked up to him
much for his performances in poetry, his general intellectual
insight and maturity, and his knowledge of important per-
sons whom we cainfe to know through him — Tennyson in
espedaL From 1849 to 1853 or so ^^ ^'^ ^^^ ^ good deal
of Mr. Patmore."

Mr. Rossetti adds that from this date circum-
stances rendered their intercourse rare, but that he
always retained a high regard for him.

Patmore gives the following accounts of his inter-
course with the Brotherhood :

•• I was intimate with the Prae-Raphaelitcs when we were
little more than boys together. They were all wQry simple,
pure-minded, ignorant, and confident. Millais ^ was looked

* Millais commences his diary with the following entry :
"OcL 16, 1 85 1. I am advised by Coventry Patmore to keep
a diary. Commence one forthwith."

Patmore however does not seem to have practised what he

84

COVENTRY PATMORE

upon as in some sort the leader, but this I fancy was partly
because he always had more command of money than the
others, who were very poor. They could not even have
printed the ' Germ ' without assistance, I well remember
Millais triumphantly flourishing before my eyes a cheque
for £1 50 which he got for * The Return of the Dove to the
Ark/ Once I was at a gathering of the Brethren and their
friends, when Hoi man Hunt produced forty sketches, and
said that any one might have them for a pound apiece, I
suppose that a hundred pounds apiece would scarcely have
bought them a shorL lime afterwards. About this time
Rossetti sold a littlu drawing of a girl and boy dancing
before Borgia for £^. Lord Houghton commissioned me
to try if I could get it for i^ioo a little while after,

** Hoi man Hunt attracted me personally more than any
of the other Pr.T-Raphaelites, He was heroically simple
and constant in his purpose of primarily serv^ing religion by
his art, and had a Quixotic notion that it was absolutely
obligatory upon him to redress every wrong that came
under his notice. This mistake sometimes brought him into
serious trouble, and more than once into danger of his life,

'* Rossetti was in manners, mind, and appearance com-
pletely Italian. He had very little knowledge of or sym-
pathy with English Literature ; and always gave me the
impression of tensity rather than intensity,

*' Woolner was and is a brilliant talker and letter-writer.
He has greatly injured his worldly prospects by his habit
of always saying, in the strongest words, what is upper-
most in his mind ; but he is nearly always right Millais' con-
versation and personality were not striking, except as being
in strong contrast with his vigour and refinement as an
artist From the beginning he felt and exhibited a boyish
delight in worldly success and popu!arit>\ I used to say in
conversation with the Pra;-Raphaelite Brethren upon finish
in art, that * It is the last rub that polishes the mirror/ 1
have since been pleased to hear this saying of mine quoted
as an established proverb."

Patmore introduced Gabriel Rossetti to Tennyson.
Rossetti writes, January, 1854 :

preached^ The notebook to which I have alluded (p, 120) is
called a "diary" rather by courtesy. It covers less than two
years, 1862-3, ^^^ ^^'^^ so far is not kept with any regularity.

4-;

Covenlry iJ at more.

^«« • «M«hH- Av^^awwi

8 partly
ban the
fi have
iber

THE PRiE-RAPHAELITES 85

" In 1850 I ventured to send my first volume of verse to
Tennyson. I don't think he wrote to me, but I heard inci-
dentally that he thought well of it ; and during a subse-
quent visit to Lx)ndon (in 1852 perhaps) Coventry Patmore,
to my boundless joy, proposed to take me to call on the
great poet, then not long married, and living at Twickenham.
We were admitted, shown upstairs, and soon a tall and
swarthy man came in, with loose dark hair and beard, very
near-sighted ; shook hands cordially, yet with a profound
quietude of manner ; immediately afterwards asked us to
stay to dine. I stayed."

Millais, in 1851, painted the portrait of Emily
Augusta Patmore,^ which has been reproduced for
these volumes, and exhibited a picture, of which the
subject was taken from Patmore's poem, *'The
Woodman's Daughter." (This was shown among his
collected works in 1898.) In the same year Patmore
induced Ruskin to write his celebrated defence of
Millais and of the Prae-Raphaelite school in general,
which had been furiously attacked in " The Times."

Patmore writes :

" The day when * The Times ' made its furious attack on
Millais' picture of * Christ in the Carpenter's Shop ' Millais
came to me in great agitation and anger, and begged me to
ask Ruskin to take the matter up. I went at once to
Ruskin, and the next day after there appeared in * The
Times ' a letter of great length and amazing quality, con-
sidering how short a time Ruskin had to examine the picture
and make up his mind about it."

The letter alluded to was written on May 9, 1851,

* Other portraits made for Patmore by the P. R. B. were ; by
Millais, a drawing of the eldest son, incomplete ; medallions of
Patmore and of his first wife, by Woolner ; by Holman Hunt, the
pencil sketch of Eliza Patmore (mentioned in Chapter I.) ; also
pencil sketches of Emily Honoria and Tennyson Patmore, the
eldest daughter and second son. John Brett made a portrait of
Emily Augusta Patmore, in 1859, of Coventry himself (1855) and
of Mary Anne Caroline Patmore, both of which last are reproduced
in these volumes.

86 COVENTRY PATMORE

and appeared on May 13. A second letter of
Ruskin's on Holman Hunt's "Valentine" from the
" Two Gentlemen of Verona " appeared on May 30.

It is evident from this that Patmore's acquaintance
with Ruskin was already of some standing. I have
no record of their first meeting, but think it probable
that it occurred through Patmore's association with
the Andrews family. Ruskin's connection with Dr.
Andrews is recorded pp. 126, 127 : the allusions to
him in the '* Praeterita" are abundant ; and I think
it likely that Ruskin never lost sight of the family,
but through them became acquainted with Patmore,
not later than 1847.

When, in 1849, '* The Germ" was started, Patmore
was asked to contribute, and sent a short poem»
" The Seasons," which was subsequently reprinted
in " Tamerton Church Tower " and in the collected
poems. Rossetti was enthusiastic about this contri-
bution, and in a letter to his brother William copies
it out at length with the remark, " Stunning, isn't
it ? " Patmore also sent to the editors his essay on
Macbeth, probably his earliest prose work, which has
been mentioned above (p. 45), and a second poem,
entitled, " Stars and Moon," one eminently character-
istic of the poet's thought, but which he never cared
to republish.

In 1857 Patmore went to Oxford to see the deco-
rative work which was being done in the large room
of the '* Union " by Rossetti, William Morris, and
others. Mr. Mackail, in his " Life of William
Morris " lately published, writes :

" The only record of their first fugitive and fair>'like
beauty is in an article by Mr. Coventry Patmore in * The
Saturday Review' for the 26th of December, 1857, which
speaks of the colour as * sweet, bright and pure as a cloud
in the sunshine/ and * so brilliant as to make the walls look
like the margin of an illuminated manuscript* "

THE PRiE.RAPHAELITES 87

It is evident from the correspondence that the
Brotherhood had considerable respect for Patmore's
judgment, not only of their literary efforts but also of
their paintings, though it was for their poetical pro-
ductions that his advice was mainly sought. Rossetti
submitted to him, before publication, his translations
from the " Early Italian Poets," and in more recent
years Patmore expended an incalculable amount of
time and labour in criticising and revising Woolner's
later poems. He also enlarged the original Prae-
Raphaelite circle by introducing other writers, notably
William AUingham, who came to be intimate with the
Brotherhood generally and especially with Rossetti.

Some life-long friendships resulted from this asso-
ciation. With F. G. Stephens and Woolner, Pat-
more was on intimate terms to the last : with others
the former intercourse partly lapsed through change
of abode, occupation, and circumstance. Between
1862, the date of Emily Patmore's death, and 1875,
when he spent a year in London, Patmore lived a
life of seclusion and saw few of his former friends.
While in town he endeavoured with some success
to gather his former associates round him, and saw
many members of the Brotherhood. Intercourse
with Gabriel Rossetti was rendered somewhat diffi-
cult by new friendships which had been formed in
the interval, as the following letters show. These
also give evidence of Patmore s desire to reinstate the
former terms of friendship and literary sympathy.

" 21, Campden Hill Road,
" Kensington,

"May 26th, 1875.

" Mv DEAR Rossetti,

" I went to Carlyle's last night, to get back my
manuscript poems from him, but his niece had gone into
the country and left them locked up somewhere, and I
shall not be able to get them back till the end of next
week at earliest. I hope however that you will still give

88 COVENTRY PATMORE

me the pleasure of seeing you here on Sunday evening, and
we may take some other opportunity of looking over the
verses. After so many years we shall find plenty to talk
about, without external aid.

" Yours ever truly,

" Coventry Patmore.
" D. G. Rossetti, Esq."

"21, Campden Hill Road,
" Kensington,

"May 27, 1875.

" My dear Rossetti,

" As I am not to see you on Sunday, and had not
sufficient opportunity when I saw you a few days ago, I
must write one word to tell you that, though I have been
buried in the country and almost in complete retirement
from the world for so many years, I should certainly have
endeavoured to see you during that period had I not
understood that it would have been difficult to do so with-
out risk of meeting a friend of yours, between whom and
me there is so little sympathy, mainly by reason of our mutu-
ally distasteful writings, that such meeting was by all means
to be avoided. It was only a few days ago that I was told
by an acquaintance of yours and mine that this chance was
not so great as it once was ; and my first action thereupon
was to go to Cheyne Row.

" Thank you for your good wishes for my work * — which,
however, I have no thought of publishing for a long while,
if at all during my lifetime. I have something of your
own dislike of publicity and all its accompaniments.

" Yours ever truly,

" Coventry Patmore.

"D. G. Rossetti, Esq."

Not long after this, Rossetti began to drift away
from his old associates, forming a new circle of
friends ; and there is no trace of any further inter-
course between him and Patmore. There seems
however to have been no actual breach, nor, on
Patmore's part, any change of friendly feeling. He
did indeed regard Rossetti as one who had, both

' The Odes.

COVENTRY PATMORE.
Fran mecUllion by T. Woolner, R.A., 1849.

VOL. I.

T0/mc*p' »

THE PR.C.RAPHAELITES 89

in poetry and painting, partijr failed to reafize his f
earlier promise. The interval betveen ** possibility '
and performance ** appeared to him to be wide, and
the idealism, whidi Rossettfs early work had fcMe-
shadowed, to have been imperfecdy developed
Patmore was disappointed with the exhibition of
his collected works at the Burlington Oub, and
found in the poems, as his essay on " Rossetti as a
Poet " shows, quite as much to criticise as to praise.
But, though Rossetti was a frequent subject of dis-
cussion between us (I happened to be sta>*ing with
Patmore when he was writing the above-named
essay), I never heard him utter a word that indi-
cated hostility or implied any reaction against the
earlier alliance.

•• Prae-Raphaelite Diaries and Letters," recently
published by Mr. W. M. Rossetti, give further
details of Patmore*s association with die Brother-
hood, and illustrate his thoughts and opinions at a
time about which there is a paucit>' of records from
other sources. I give here the more important
extracts in order of date :

P. 222. Tuesday, 25ih Sept, 1849.

Patmore has seen and appears much pleased u-ith the
pfx>spectus [of •* The Germ "], and has given us a h'ttle poem
named '* The Seasons " for our ist No., but uith the proviso
that his name shall not transpire, as he means to keep it
back in all instances till the appearance of his new volume.

P. 225. Thursday, i8th Oct., 1849.

VVoolner . . . has begun a medallion portrait of Patmore,
who has given him three sittings, bc^nning on Sunday.

P. 228. Wednesday, 7th Nov., 1849.

This was the evening fixed for Millais's and Gabriers

introduction to Patmore, at Woolner's study. Gabriel and

I went, and Patmore came, but Millais appeared not We

conversed a good deal of Woolner's poems, which Patmore

90 COVENTRY PATMORE

says are so good that he is surprised they should not be
much better.

He [Patmore] insists strongly on the necessity of never

leaving a poem till the whole of it be brought to a pitch of

excellence perfectly satisfactory ; in this respect of general

^ • equality, and also in regard to metre, he finds much to

C •* ^ object to in Woolner's poem of Afy Lady and considers

<,' ' that these defects are far less prominent in some passages

"v ^ o{ Friendship that were read to him. Henry Taylor, he

'^ says, ought to devote ten more years to Philip Van Arte-

velde^ and it would then be qualified to live. ... He read

Gabriel's sonnets on Ingres's picture of Roger and Angelica^

and was much struck with the character they possess of

being descriptive of a painting. . . .

. ,. P. 229. Thursday, 8th Nov., 1849.

j^ . . ... Patmore, talking of Philip Bailey, remarked that he

* seems to be "painting on clouds, not having his foot on

>' reality." Burns he considers more perfect than Tennyson.

P. 230. Monday, 12th Nov., 1849.

Patmore called on him (Woolner) yesterday, and talked
of my poem, in which he finds a most objectionable absence
of moral dignity, all the characters being puny and destitute
of elevation. He means nevertheless to read it through
again, that he may be able to judge of it in detail without
looking so much to the scope — or want of scope. These
are very much the objections that we had all foreseen, and
acquiesce in. . . .

P. 232. Thursday, 22nd Nov., 1849.

A long argument was maintained concerning poetr>' —
Patmore professing that Bums is a greater poet than Tenny-
son, in which opinion Tennyson himself fully concurs.
Patmore instanced, as a line of unsurpassable beauty, " with
jpy unfeigned brothers and sisters meet," from The Cottar's
Saturday Night. He says that Tennyson is the greatest
man he ever came in contact with, far greater in his life than
in his writing — perfectly sincere and frank, never paying
uncandid compliments. Browning takes more pains to
please, and is altogether much more a man of the world.
Patmore thinks that Browning does not value himself at so
high a point as he is rated by Gabriel and me. Patmore
holds the age of narrative poetry to be passed for ever, and

THE PRiE-RAPHAELITES 91

thinks that probably none such will again appear ; he con-
siders Peter BM^ though most vexatiously imperfect, to be
the opening of a new era. He looks on the present race of ^ _
poets as highly " self-conscious " in comparison with their
predecessors, but yet not sufficiently so for the only system
now possible — ^the psychological. The conversation taking .
a religious turn, he said that the devil is the only being ^ V
purely reasoning^ and analytic, and therefore is the .devil ; \ . ^' (.^
and he would have every man hold to the faith he is born n V ^
iifi, as, if he attempts to get beyond its bounds, he will be t;,

far more likely to be a rebel than a seeker after truth,* and " * • -

should not attempt to pull down without having something
to build anew. He thinks Millais's picture far better than
anything Keats ever did, and that he is adapted to usher in
a new style which will eventually educate people into taste,
and make his works some day as popular and saleable as
Barraud's We praise Tlue, O God, One of the chief curses
of the day he considers to be that every one is critical. Of
the poets of this and the last generation he says that they
are " all nerves and no hearts." He fraternized with Cross,
in whom he sees some resemblance to David Scott, the re-
cently dead brother of W. B. . . . We had some talk of
ghosts, to a belief in which Patmore does not see any ob-
stacles. Millais related a singular story on the subject he
heard at Oxford, and Woolner some experiences of his own
immediate relations and friends. Millais, as we walked
home, unburdened himself of his observations and conclu-
sions, and declared that if he had seen Patmore's hand u-
alone cut off, he could have sworn to it as that of a man of /
genius.

P. 236. Thursday, 13th December, 1849.

Patmore was at VVoolner's last night, and read him Poe's
tales to his own great satisfaction. He considers Poe the
best writer that America has produced. He is in a state of

* This is somewhat noticeable. Patmore, who became a fervent
Catholic towards 1863, was in 1849 a strict and indeed prejudiced
Protestant— Note by W. M. R.

I can see nothing in the opinions here attributed to Patmore
to justify this statement, which moreover is in direct contradiction
to his letters of this period, to his autobiography, and to the testi-
mony of Dr. Gamett. Patmore joined the Roman Church in
1864.

92 COVENTRY PATMORE

some indignation at a book that has been lately published
in America by Thomas Powell ; wherein himself, Tennyson,
Browning, and others with whom he is not conscious of
Powell's having ever met, are spoken of Gabriel showed
him My Sisters Sleeps which he approves in respect of
sentiment, but says that it contains several lines that will
not scan, and that it is too self-conscious in parts, as in the
" I believe " of the first stanza, and in " I think that my lips
did not stir."

P. 259. Wednesday, 20th December, 1849.

Patmore sent me his paper on Macbeth ; which is devoted
to showing that the idea of obtaining the crown was not
suggested to Macbeth by the witches, but had been pre-
viously contemplated by him. It is very acute and well
written and will fill some twenty pages.

P. 267. Thursday, 21st March, 1850.

I went to Patmore's with the proof of his Macbeth, He
has got one out of some half-dozen copies of Tennyson's
Elegies that have been printed strictly for private perusal ;
the publication of the work being postponed for some while,
till about Christmas. Patmore says Tennyson is too lazy
to go to Woolner's for his portrait, but will be at home for
him any evening he may call. He learned Italian so as to
be able to read Dante, Patmore says, in one fortnight's
study. Patmore himself is .desirous of making the experi-
ment ; and would, if he thought he could succeed equally
well. He has been occupied the last month with his poem
on Marriage,' of which however he has not meanwhile
written a line ; but, having meditated the matter, is now
about to do so. He expresses himself quite confident of
being able to keep it up at the same pitch as the few
, astonishing lines he has yet written, and which he read us
some time ago. He is now anxious to have published as
soon as possible his papers advocating certain principles in
architecture, as the subject has of late been treated by others,
and he is fearful of finding himself in a certain manner fore-
stalled. He was a good deal struck with the quotations in
my notice of T/ie Strayed Reveller^ and has also a great
desire to hear Gabriel's Bride-Chamber Talk^ of which he
has heard Woolner and Millais speak.

' This resulted in "The Angel in the House."— Note by W. M. R.

THE PRiE-RAPHAELITES 93

P- «7S- October 24th, 1850.

I heard from Patmore the other night that Tennyson,
on being told that Millais was doing something from Tlu
Woodmates Daughter, observed, "I wish he'd do something
from me."

P- »^>- Tuesday, 27th October, 1850.

In the evening accompanied Woolner to Patmore's.
Found that Woolner had just had a cast taken of his
medallion head of Mrs. Patmore. ....

Patmore, when we arrived, was reading a translation by
Charles Bagot Cayley, with whom I have lately become
acquainted, of some cantos of the Inferno, left by me with
Patmore, who promised to see whether The Palladium
would be willing to publish it He thinks very highly of
the translation, and will write fully to the Editor on the
subject. He had also just read Browning's Christmas Eve
and Easter Day ^viA is evidently deeply impressed with it —
more than any other of the great man's works — though he
does not exactly know ** what to make of it"

P. 282. Sunday, 3rd November, 1850.

Spent the evening at Patmore's, with whom I left my
notice of Allingham: his in The Palladium is out . . .
Patmore does not believe we have any really great men
living in the region of pure intellect ; not even Tennyson, /
though he might have thought him such, had he not w ritten.
He spoke of Gabriel's poem, Dante in £'i5Zf,~which heron-
siders full of fine things ; the stanzas on Republics he
admires particularly. He talks of keeping open house on
every alternate Saturday, and has given me and all the
P.R.B. a general invitation. . . .

P. 294. Sunday, February 2nd, 1851.

He (Woolner) with Gabriel and myself, spent the evening
with Patmore on Saturday. Gabriel left some more of his
translations from the Italian before Dante, which Patmore
says are the only true love-poems he ever saw.

P. 302. Tuesday 13th, — Thursday 15th, May, 1851.

Ruskin's letter [see above, pp. 85, Z6'\ will do good. Pat-
more, at whose instance it was written, thinks we should send
Ruskin our thanks ; but this seems of doubtful propriety,
as it might be interpreted into making interest with a view
to his second letter. When that is out, something of the
kind suggested would certainly appear right

I

CHAPTER VIII

PERSONAL TRAITS, 1 844- 1 864

HAVE endeavoured to recover from other
sources than the foregoing extracts some idea
of Coventry Patmore's personal aspect be-
tween the time of his father's more or less idealized
description of him (pp. 45-48) and 1864, when I first
became acquainted with him. The first description
which comes to hand is a letter written by Mrs.
Alfred Fryer at her husband's dictation to his friend
Mr. Sutton, and is dated March 17, 1847 •

"Alfred is on the sofa dictating to me with so much
volubility, that I can scarcely hope to make this at all in-
telligible. — Rose.

" * We went to the museum the day after I (Alfred) came,
and had a long talk with Patmore. He is not at all like
the cove we took him for. He is very tall and slender.
He came here on Sunday, and talked splendidly to us for
four hours. We think more highly of him from his con-
versation than even from his poems, although we by no
means agree with the doctrines he expresses. He some-
times hears Tennyson read his own poems, w^hich he does
in first-rate style, his voice being in some of its tones like a
cathedral organ. Tennyson has two new volumes of poetry,
which Coventry says are far superior, in as far as he is
acquainted with them, to anything Tennyson has already
published. Monckton Milnes is writing a life of Keats.
Coventry says that " if Keats had lived ten years longer he
would have been the greatest man we ever had " — perhaps
he would except Shakespeare : he says Keats's letters are
equal to the writings of Emerson, and resemble them.
"Young and Old England" took Coventry three whole
weeks of hard work to write. We think him very unassum-

PERSONAL TXAIT5

ii^ and a capital §eDam : le car jaxi^ isi bsarrlj sf job
please ! He looks icry j'juii^ Tire as lur ar le i£^ br :^ree
or four yeaxs^ until be zml*i sm isi zfE . -fat !■ ■ --.^^^a.- ^
broad and rather \jw. arvf ic^ trar snsZL He 2i nic
handsome, hot has a= i= 2g.?^rg scs. C«ae iroof rkot
think him a great tsa^ at srs iiu.iiL We ssLI ace *'^^^
again in a day or twc- and t3ic=: ^»» zsz. isl nnrt ibmc TtVr»
Rose and he had a scaZ hg^r c^icixr rrrrriir. 2:5 j^ul 227
fancy. He thinks ci arJiiii g a »e=L n be :»i^ p:«n ic t2e
age, but hglf doabcs hzs £."rr pc«v*rL I ifil V— trac z^
poem of tK age zne expect fruiL b2§ pe:i icni *^Tar r iess&s
to me, he has quite grnc?* eauagi. ^ m:jc* : r^ '

" Young and OjC Ergiiad " 2$ tbt ccijfril trie of
a poem first puVi^ishw: i: Dccsgiis Jtrroid s " IHjiri-
n^Uted Magaonc." It was rey^^it^r Er • Tincrtoo
Church Tower" as ^Hof^e a;^airst Hope 2Dd
takes the form of a diajog^jrt i*Era-«s a ycrjsg^ aod
an cJd man, the former afrccarr:^ a Lop^J and
Christian interpretatxoc of rr>e procfers c« the irni-
verse, while the latter asserts rbe posftSco of an
agnostic and pess;rnis? In aZ jx^oci^bclit}' ti>e pocsn
represents discussions wtich tooi p!ijce between
Coventry and his iatfaer. and indicates tzs^ sereral
attitudes towards such questioosu

A few weeks later Mrs. Fr^er wrhes to Mr.
Sutton :

- Alfred has not heard fiotn Pataaore v^ r^r^g — a ireelc I
think — that he has a great xa: ryi to beli*r.-e tht iaic ?a:izKire
most be ilL"

The suspension of intercourse is, ix/wever, ex-
plained a month later, when Mr. Frytr writes :

•• I saw friend Coventr>- for a tarxscrti <x^\\ He is gc^ng
to be married to a Miss A»!rr»-&. a ^asx^Va of a dissent-
ii^ minister. She is a mc#st W*€iy girl, aboct twenty
[she was actually just over tventy-thret]. kxv/T^s Latin,
Greek and French, and Au foemi. .She can talk abr^it
everything, but, *aba\-e all. has ry>t associated much vith
0ih€r girU: "

96 COVENTRY PATMORE

Mr. Aubrey de Vere has kindly furnished the
following account of his earlier intercourse with
Patmore. No dates are given, but it is obvious
from the context that the acquaintance had com-
menced before Patmore began to write " The Angel
in the House."

" Coventry Patmore b^an early to be well known as a
poet, and by not a few warmly admired, although his first
volume was hardly, I believe, a success. He was not dis-
couraged ; or at least I never heard him utter a complaint
I met him first at the house of the late Lord Houghton,
who was always glad to cultivate the acquaintance of men
of genius, whether recognized as such or not ; and I quickly
noted in him several signs that he was among those sure
to be recognized. One of these signs of genius is its
extreme simplicity, while another is that of an ardent yet
not noisy enthusiasm. But these characteristics make it
often more difficult than it would otherwise be to describe
a man adequately. A simple character makes its quiet in-
fluence quickly and deeply felt ; while, on the other hand,
an artificial and complex one suggests more than may be
said about it. Those who met Bums or Keats were, it is
probable, strongly though gently drawn towards them, but
might perhaps have said in but a few words all that could
be profitably said respecting them.

" We met frequently in London, and I was early im-
pressed by the originality of his remarks, and also by the
sensitive and impassioned character of his intellect. (What-
ever he thought he felt also. \ One evening I brought him
to a small gathering at the llJplands, the residence of my
friend Henry Taylor, whose poetry he greatly valued for its
union of strength with refinement. He evidently enjoyed
himself there ; and, when he and his son, a young boy at
the Blue-coat school, had to rush out into the summer
darkness to catch the last London omnibus, his departure
was much regretted by all present, though he made no
effort to interest them. He had spoken of Tennyson with
great and just admiration, and of Wordsworth with a pro-
found reverence ; and in both cases what he had thought he
had obviously felt also. Someone had remarked that after
twenty years of ridicule and ten more of * faint praise ' it

PERSONAL TRAITS 97

was only in his old age that Wordsworth's Poetry had
become appreciated. Patmore repUed, * His poetiy has
come at last to be admired ; but before its full greatness
comes to be appreciated, at least two centuries must have
passed away.'

** His life was a br^ht one, though his worldly circum-
stances were narrow and precarious, and though he had to
work hard upon other labours besides the poetic. During
his early days of trial Patmore lived in a small house in
that beautiful spot, Hampstead, and there, on several warm
summer evenings, I visited him and his first wife and joined
them in their walk among the fragrant lanes and hedges ad-
joining it and Highgate, a region which, though within three
or four miles of London, retains still large remnants of a rural
grace long vanished from neighbourhoods fifty times more
remote. We talked of the great men who had walked there
in old times — especially of Coleridge, far the greatest of .
them, Leigh Hunt^a true poet and a zealous lover of poets,
then also residenttfiere, who in his * Feast of the Poets '
had assigned to Coleridge as an emblem gift from Apollo
a characteristic one commingling Mandragora and Balm."

The following description belongs to a somewhat
later date. It was printed in Nathaniel Hawthorne's
posthumous work, '* English Note-books " (pp. 390-
392). I cannot refrain from giving the beautiful
letter in which his widow asks leave to include the
reminiscence :

« My dear Mr. Patmore,

" I have been copying Mr. Hawthorne's English
journal for the Press, and near its close there is a passage
about you, which I should like to retain if you are willing.
I suppose you remember the call you made upon us in
Great Russell Street in 1858 ; for we never forgot it — and
regretted deeply that we met you so late, when we might
have known you in all those weeks we were detained in
London. I feel an infinite obligation to you for your Poems.
— Upon my return to England, after a dreary absence in
Portugal, when I arrived in Liverpool and expressed my
excessive fatigue and exasperation at such a long separa-
tion, my husband put ' The Angel in the House ' into my
hand, saying that I should be refreshed and enchanted, and

I- H

98 COVENTRY PATMORE

forget all my vexations by reading it I cannot express to
you my enjo3mient of it It seemed to me like a beautiful
Grecian Temple lighted up with Gods and Goddesses, a
pure, white, heavenly splendour pervading everywhere, and
the repose of a better life brought down into this. The
Preludes seemed like lovely Porticos of fair columns of per-
fect grace — But it is of no use for me to go on. I had
found something new, fresh and of a statuesque beauty
tinted with living colour, too— I exclcumed, ' Who and where
is this true Poet ? ' We took to Rome the vols, you brought
or sent for a New Year's gift to Mr. Hawthorne, and had
them bound in beautiful Roman vellum, as the best honor
we could externally render them, and we have brought the
book to Dresden and it lies before me now.

" I will copy and enclose the passage in the journal, which
I will expunge from my manuscript if you say so. But I
hope you will not Mr. Browning has given me permission
to retain a passage about himself and Mrs. Browning — ^with
thdr names in full. You also belong to the world by the
right of Genius.

We are living in Dresden for two or three years, and, if
you travel to the continent, I trust you will come to see
your true lovers — ^though the chief inducement — the pre-
sence of Mr. Hawthorne — I can no longer offer. I greatly
wonder that I am still in this world, lent yet — while our
children need me, I am willing — as this is for a moment,
and an Eternal life with him is in store for me. I have
never for one instant felt separated from him — or I could
not have existed here at all. To you I say this — for are
not you the Sacred Poet of perfect married life ?
" With very great r^ard I am,
" Sincerely yours,

"Sophia Hawthorne.

" Dresden, June 14th, 1869.

" 46B, 3rd Etage, BauUner Strasse."

" P.S. — It is such rare praise from Mr. Hawthorne to call
a poem * most beautiful and original ' considering the care-
ful, conscientious and modified way in which he always
awarded praise of poets — that I remark it as almost a
solitary instance in your regard."

The following is the passage enclosed (the date is
Jan. 3rd, 1858) :

PERSONAL TRAITS 99

** On Thursday we had the pleasure of a call from Mr.
Coventry Patmore, to whom Dr. Wilkinson gave me a letter
of introduction, and on whom I had called twice at the
British Museum, without finding him. We had read his
* Betrothal * and * Angel in the House ' with unusual pleasure
and sympathy, and therefore were very glad to make his
personal acquaintance. He is a man of much more youth-
ful aspect than I had expected — a slender person to be an
Englishman, though not remarkably so, had he been an
American — with an intelligent, pleasant and sensitive face,
a man very evidently of refined feelings and cultivated
mind. He is very simple and agreeable in his manners ; a
little shy, yet perfectly frank, and easy to meet on real
grounds. He said that his wife had purposed to come with
him, and had, indeed, accompanied him to town, but was kept
away. We were very sorry for this, because Mr. Patmore
seems to acknowledge her as the real ' Angel in the House,' ,
although he says she herself ignores all connection with the .
poem. It is well for her to do so, and for her husband to '
feel that the character is her real portrait ; and both, I sup- i/
pose, are right It is a most beautiful and original poem-4 ^
a poem for happy married people to read together, and to^
understand by the light of dieir own past and present life ;
but I doubt whether the generality of English people are
capable of appreciating it I told Mr. Patmore that I
thought his popularity in America would be greater than at
home, and he said that it was already so ; and he appeared |
to estimate highly his American fame, and also our general
gift of quicker and more subtle recognition of genius than
the English public

" We mutually gratified each other by expressing high
admiration of one another's works, and Mr. Patmore re-
gretted that in the few days of our further stay here we
should not have time to visit him at his home. It would
really give me pleasure to do so. I expressed a hope of
seeing him in Italy during our residence there, and he
seemed to think it possible, as his friend and our country-
man, Thomas Buchanan Reed, had asked him to come
thither and be his guest

** He took his leave, shaking hands with all of us because
he saw that we were his own people, recognizing him as a
true poet He has since given me the new edition of his
poems, with a kind note.**

loo COVENTRY PATMORE

Of his personal habits at this time some particulars
can be recorded. The habit of night walks, which
he retained till a very few days before his death, was
already established. Mr. Fryer writes to Henry
Sutton, March 22, 1847, that "he went to see
Coventry at his own house, arriving there by nine
o'clock and staying with him till one a.m. ; that
Coventry then walked with him home, so that Fryer
spent another hour in his company and that Patmore
would have kept him talking for two hours more if
he had been willing ; that the conversation was
chiefly about Patmore's book on art;" also that
Coventry had a ** nice good-natured brother living
with him."

The brother was Gumey Eugene. The book on
art was destined never to see the light, at any rate
as a complete work. Not long after this, as is
shown by Patmore's letters to Mr. Henry Sutton,
he appears to have conceived for art a capricious
distaste, which, though of short duration, ffiayiiavc
^ resulted in the destruction of what he had so far
written on the subject

Of his home habits as a student it may be re-
lated that, although he always took great pleasure
in seeing his house well and comfortably furnished,
he preferred his own study to be quite monastic in
its plainness. In his early married days he always
chose for his own room an attic of the house in
which he might be living, had it whitewashed and
supplied with two or three wooden armchairs, a
common sofa, a very scant supply of books, and a
writing table. To this room he only took his most
particular friends for talks. He did not indulge in
tobacco in his youth : he invariably found that sitting
in a room with others smoking gave him a headache,
so that to be asked by him to smoke while talking
was the greatest sign of friendship. Although he

PERSONAL TRAITS loi

had always been a great reader, he was never fond
of having many books in his own study ; the few he
had most frequently in use were generally kept out of
his sight, except that on which he was engaged for
the time. He usually placed his book on a table
while reading, only touching it with his hands when
turning over a leaf. This fastidiousness has caused '

him to say more than once, " I could not make

a friend. Did you see how careless he was with
that book?"

The somewhat ascetic character of his " sanctum "
was preserved to the lasL So too was the habit of
having but few books about him, though his library
was considerable. He had inherited tK>oks from his
father and his great-uncle; his second wife brought
many to his home ; and numbers of works were pre-
sented to him by their authors ; but when I knew
him he seldom had more than a score or so of books
at hand, and these were mostly the liturgical manuals
of his own Communion, some few works of the
Fathers and of his favourite philosophers, and a
novel or two for relaxation.

As regards tobacco, his habits and tastes under-
went a complete revolution. So far as I remember,
he smoked little, if at all, until in 1875 he went to
live at Hastings. From that time he not only
smoked incessantly, but seemed surprised if his ^est
failed to follow suit. He told me that even if his
physician were to tell him that the habit was shorten-
mg his life he should hesitate to smoke less, for
"time was not to be measured by years but by
thought; and tobacco was especially conducive to
fruittul meditation."

These observations from without may well be
supplemented by the following memoranda, which
reveal his inner life. They were written in 1861.

C:C .

:^

I02 COVENTRY PATMORE , e

" Meni. for Prayer. f

" Thanksgiving, — For creation to the capacity of eternally
enjoying a happiness which shall exceed, if I obtain it, those
few brief heights of joy which are the lights of my life.
^ " For preservation through the innumerable known and

unknown dangers of thirty-seven years.

^ ^ " For preservation, during that period, of baptismal grace»

V whereby, notwithstanding all my miserable failures and in-

^ credible relapses, I am still urged and persuaded and more

\ or less empowered to live the life of truth and faith in Christ,

V ^ ' " For the extraordinary number, greatness and obvious-
^ / K ness of God's external providences during that time.

^ V V. « Yof my dear Wife. For all the innumerable blessings,

known and unknown, of her most .amiable companionship

V \ for fourteen years. For her simplicity, her admirable judg-
ment, her effective and unobtrusive godliness, her beauty
and personal delightfulness, her equal temper, her warm
and unwavering affection to me. For her wonderful resto-
ration to my prayers and those which were offered up by
others, when she was wholly given up by all the physicians.
For the great increase of our love through the many active
proofs and exercises of love produced by her long danger,
which is not yet over, though very much diminished. For
the greater and more sensible tenderness which the pre-
carious tenure of her life causes between us. For the family
of beautiful and promising children I have by her.

" For our many friends, good for help, example, and
society.

" For my honourable office, and for my gifts as a poet, and
the discovery of a subject on which those gifts can be em-
ployed with the prospect of great good to the world and
profit and honourable reputation to myself and wife and
children.

" For the redemption of the world by the incarnation, life,
death, resurrection and ascension of Christ ; and for the
means of grace, whereby I in particular shall certainly be
saved if I use the ability and opportunities which God has
no less certainly given me of taking them.

" For the particular blessings, temporal and spiritual, of
the last few hours, days, and weeks.

" For exemption from any great distress, grief, pain, or
dishonour.

PERSONAL TRAITS 103

I

Petitions.

^ That I may owe no man anything but love ; and, to
that end, may have health, diligence, and success in work,
and in all right means of seeking worldly advantage.

"That, in my conduct to my wife, I may become more
and more chaste, affectionate, tender, just, courtly, and
actively pleasing and benevolent

" That I may not, for want of thought or activity, omit any
occasion of good to our children. That I may have a more
tender feeling of their weakness, and not be angry if I do
not find in them the moral powers which are often wanting
in myself.

^ That I may be faithful in word and act to my friends,
and reciprocate their goodness as far as I am able.

" That I may be gentle, true, and good-willing towards
all with whom I have intercourse and influence, especially
my colleagues in office.

** That I may be enabled to write my poetry from im-
mediate perception of the truth and delight of love at once
divine and human, and that all events may so happen as
shall best advance this my chief work and probable means
of working out my own salvation.

" That Emily and I may be preserved in life and health
to the temporal and eternal good and happiest reunion in
heaven of ourselves and our children.

" That Emily may be continually blessed with the con-
solation, peace, and joy of the Holy Ghost, and that all
happiness may be upon her in this world and the next

•* That the evil tendencies of our children may be checked
and removed by God's all-powerful and unexpectedly
working grace.

•* That my conscience may become lualthier and more pro-
fortionate.

** That I may learn to speak little, and that truly, kindly,
and without any hypocritical or scandalous inconsistency
with my life.

•• For the peace of God which passeth, that is, is more
intelligent than, all understanding.

•• For prudence to seek out the best helps to religion, in
friends and books, and to waste no time on unprofitable
acquaintances, newspaper-reading, etc.

•* For an abiding belief and knowledge of the all-import-

I04 COVENTRY PATMORE

ant fact that I actually have from God the power of willing
to obey Him in all things He requires of me.

" For understanding and right humility, not to impose
on myself burthens beyond commanded obedience, but
thankfully and joyfully to take permitted delights, comforts,
reliefs, and freedoms.

"May, 1861."

CHAPTER IX

SELF-EDirCATIOX Df THE FOfTIC AlTT

THE perusal of Patmore's letters and of the
prose vark wfaidi be wrote for ▼arioas
periodicals leads me to the ooodosioo that
it was about 1846 tbat be aftaiiifd to ffitenfrtml
maturity (tboogfa his mental development ended only
with his Ufe), and that it was then too that be first
entered on a dose and uiculific stodjr of the prin-
ciples of poetic art. It is evident tbat be had tapidty
ou^rrown the st^ne of thought (ccBng and method
that had produced the earlier poems, which he now -
condemns both for sentiment and for styie. The
gulf which in every branch of art divides the
amateur from the artist is now^iere wider than in
poetry. The poetic is as truly a *^ myUtry ^ as any
art, and its secr et s are possibly even less comprthen>
sible to the layman than those of mnsk. arditfectnre,
painting or sculpture. The prov e i b , ** Poeta nasritm ^
non fit,** like many proverbs, is half truths half
falsdiood. Ever>' true poet was bom to be a poet ;
but none have ever fuUy entered into their birth-
ri^t of genius without dose and accurate study of
the prinaples and methods of their art. Patmore's
early poems are full of such felicities as may come
from a mere natural gift unsuppr>rted by adequate
training; equaOy full of inequalities and crudjtie%
the tendency to iHiich carefol discipline alone can
correct*

He soon came to recognize with Coleridge that^
poetry "* had a logic of its own, as severe as that of \

Y

io6 COVENTRY PATMORE

science, and more difficult because more subtle, more
complex and dependent on more and more fugitive
causes" ; that there ought to be '* a reason, not only
for every word, but for the position of every word."
It would be impossible to find an attempt at closer
analysis of such laws than the following extract from
a review of Tennyson's " Princess/' Then and later
Coleridge seemed to Patmore the best master among
moderns of the poetic art, both by theoretic teaching
and by example, setting, as he held, in the few poems
which were worthy of his genius, the highest standard
of accomplishment.

"Another means of suggestion which is scarcely less
frequently employed in high poetry, although its employ-
ment is less generally felt and is seldom distinctly recognized
by critics, consists in the choice of words, the letters of
which convey subtle resemblances of sound to the matter
expressed. Out of the innumerable examples which
suggest themselves, we select a well-known couplet from
Coleridge's ' Christabel ':

* The brands were flat, the brands were dying,
Amid their own white ashes lying.'

■ Here the cold vowels a, /, o, are the only ones which are
openly sounded, and of these a is repeated five times, and i
three times, the e in the short the, preceding, as it does, the
long syllable brand, is scarcely heard ; the ear is wholly
occupied with the eight cold vowels which occur in the long
syllables of the eight feet that constitute these lines. The
only effect of warmth is a very slight one, produced by the
rapid succession of the consonants b, r, and n^dm the word
brand. Again, there is an effect of weight conveyed by the
word brand, and to this effect we are invited to attend, by
the repetition of it, and by the first juxtaposition and con-
trast of this word with other words, conveying the notion
of softness and lightness ; finally the two ideas of lightness
and weight are united, and the effect completed by the word
amid, in which the sound passing through the soft tn and
its indistinct vowels, concludes in a heavy d ; and com-
pletes to a delicate ear and a prepared mind, the entire

POETIC EDUCATION 107

pictufe of die wa^ty and smouklerii^ brands, sunken
throus^ the l^;lit mass of ashes which remains after their
undisturbed oombastkxL If die ahnost magically pic-
turesque eflfect which all will allow to be conv^red b>' this
couplet be not due to diese reasons, to what does it owe
its or^in ? Eiq>licable origin or reason, of one kind or
another, diere must be for every effect of diis natufe. And
if these reasons be admitted, they must also be confessed to
have been intended. To imagine that an extensive and
co-operating set of eflfects in art can have arisen without a
first and intdligent, as well as a final and intelligible cause,
were scarcely less stupid than atheism."

I think, however, that Patmore would in later years
(even had he then endorsed this eariier criticism),
have modified the view here expressed that Coleridge
had, in writing the passage analyzed, been fully con-
scious of all the elements of effecL

Patmore, as has been already recorded, had the
ambition to write " what was to be /i^ poem of the
day ** ; but felt that nothing short of prolonged and
severe study would enaUe him to succeed His
marriage was, as I shall hope to show, inidating him
more and more deeply into his chosen subject, and
meanwhile his main interest was to master tne poetic
art in all its intricac}\ How completely this aim
occupied his thoi^hts is shown^ not merely by the
essay on " English Metrical Critics" (see note, p. 109),
but also in most of the numerous articles which he
wrote during these years, 1846^1862. So com-
[detely is his mind devoted to the abstract laws of
poetic art that, when he is reviewing contemporary
poets, the reader often has to read page after page of
theory before he comes to the actual subject, which
is often disposed of in a brief and somewhat per-
functoiy manner. It is evident that it was his own
poetic education which was the main object of his
thoughts, and that the verses he was reviewing were
not much more to him than the occasion for an

io8 COVENTRY PATMORE

essay on the all-absorbing subject It is possible
too to discern in these articles a continuous develop-
yment of the mysticism which came later to take so
1/ complete possession of his imagination. I have
mentioned elsewhere (p, 182) how he endeavours,
in reviewing Tennyson's ** Princess," to read into
i t an occ ujtmeaning, and how it was, in all proba-
bility, the^ultimate conviction that this poem would
not bear such an interpretation, and that Tennyson's
work showed no progress on the lines on which his
own thought was developing, that led to a diminution
of interest and sympathy as of poet with poet.

Even on these conditions Patmore found review-
ing an irksome task. He had, as has been seen,
dreaded the idea of becoming a '' magazine hack," a
fate from which his appointment to the Museum had
rescued him. The smallness of his means however
made it necessary for him to increase his income by
writing for periodicals ; but as soon as he was well
embarked upon poetic work, he relieved himself of
this necessity by reducing his expenses, letting his
house and living in lodgings; thus securing for
poetry his whole thought and leisure.*

This is, I think, a fair account of his relation to
current literature during these years of poetic incuba-

* Of his talk on the engrossing subject, besides the records

preserved by the Prae-Raphaelites, I can find but one record. Dr.

Gamett, in the obituary notice which he contributed to the

" Saturday Review," speaks of a long series " of conversations,

in which I learned lessons invaluable for prose as well as verse.

All the faults to which a young writer is most pro^is found in him

\. a severe censor and an unanswerable antagonist ' The subordina-

'<\ tion of parts to the whole, the necessity of every part of a com-

j position being in keeping with all the others, the equal importance

\ of form with matter, absolute truth to nature, sobriety in simile

and metaphor, the wisdom of maintaining a reserve of p)ower-5

these and kindred maxims were enforced with an emphasis most

salutary to a young hearer just beginning to write in the heyday

of the * spasmodic school/ "

POETIC EDUCATION 109

tion. I must, however, deprecate any idea of dis-
paraging these prose writings of his. They appear
to me, notwithstanding the indications of detachment
whidi I have noted, to attain a high standard of ex-
cellence on their own lines. The style indeed lacks
the nervous energy and distinction shown by his
later prose work, but the articles are almost always
marked by originality and maturity of thought and by
careful and fair critical judgment. I am precluded
from cataloguing them by the following letter to Mr.
Buxton Forman :

" Hastings, July 18, 1886.
«*Dear Sir,

** I was in error about the Museum appointment. It
was in 1846. I was educated at home. Between 1846 and
1862 I wrote a great many articles in the Edinburgh,
North British, British, and National (Quarterly) Review,
and in other periodicals ; but the only Papers I desire to
have my name connected with are, an article *on the
Sources of Expression in Architecture ' in the Edinburgh ;
•English Metrical Critics' in the North British (1856 I
believe) reprinted in my collected poems ; a paper on the

• Ethics of Art ' either in the * British ' or * North British,'
I forget which, and I think about the year 1850 or 1851 ;

• Ma£ime de Hautefort and her Contemporaries ' in the
National Review, 1856 I think; an Article on 'Shake-
speare,' banning * The Drama of Shakespeare was an in-
vention of his own,' either in British or North British, I
think in latter, within a year or two of 1850.

•* Yours faithfully,

" C. PATMORE/' '

' " Sources of Expression in Architecture " takes the form of a
review of Ruskin's " Seven Lamps" and *' Stones of Venice," vol. i.
("Edinburgh Review" for 1851, 94. 365). From it and other ar
ticles Patmore subsequently compiled the papers entitled " Archi-
tectural Styles," which appear in " Principle in Art." " English
Metrical Critics " appeared in the " North British Review " for
1857 (27. 137), and is printed in '* Amelia "as a '* Prefatory Study
of English Metrical Law " ; " Ethics of Art " is in the " British

X

no COVENTRY PATMORE

In connection with the essay last mentioned, I
may relate that Patmore always disputed the theory
of the complete ** objectivity" of Shakespeare, and
thought that his personality was by no means so
completely hidden as has been generally maintained.
He also held him to be a great moral teacher, find-
ing that in almost all the plays reward and penalty
are meted out to the characters according to their
fidelity to or deviation from a central law of con-
duct This article, like some others, is really a
portion or a condensation of a more complete work
which Patmore had planned and almost completed.
Similarly the **book on art" (p. loo) and a pro-
jected work on architecture, for the issue of which
he had actually been in treaty with a publisher, were
divided up or reduced, and reappeared in the form
of Quarterly articles. The history of the projected
work on Shakespeare is given in a letter of Robert
Browning to Elizabeth Barrett : ^

" I was at Mrs. Procter's last night Kinglake and Chor-
ley, with a little of Milnes and Coventry Patmore . . . Pat-
more told me in his quiet way that his criticisms — his book
on which he had been expending a worid of pains — is alto-
gether superseded by the appearance of * Ulrici on Shake-
speare' — the very words of many of his more important
paragraphs are the same. That astounds one a little, does
it not?"

I may remark, in passing, that the opinions ex-
pressed in the prose writings of this period, whether
in letters or in published articles, are in general
accord with those which Patmore held in later life.

Quarterly " for 1849 (10. 441). " Madame de Hautefort and her
Contemporaries" occurs in the "National Review" for 1856
(3- 317)1 2ind is reprinted in "Religio Poetae," The article on
"Shakspeare" is in the " North British Review " for 1849 (12.

115).
' " Letters of Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett," vol. ii.,

P- 135-

POETIC EDUCATION m

So far as the same ground is covered there is but
little change of opinion between 1846, when his more
mature ideas are first recorded, and 1880 when
•• Principles in Art " appeared, the superiority of the
later criticism being manifest mainly in increased
pr^^nancy of thought and felicity of expression.

Patmore's essay on Metre seems to me, and to
others more competent to judge, to be, for the time
at which it was written, a remarkable contribution to
die subject, superseding and almost revolutionizing
previous theory, and showing his power of penetrat-
mg to essential principles. No doubt its efficiency
is somewhat impaired by concentration and by being
insufficiently illustrated by examples, so that it is
somewhat hard reading for any but the expert, if
not even for him. Patmore himself, writing to a
friend to whom he sent the essay on its re-publica-
tion, asks half humorously " Do you understand
it .^ I am not sure that I do; " a remark which can
apply only to the detail, as the general theory, that
of isometric intervals marked by the recurrence of
ictus^ is thoroughly and intelligibly developed. So
too is the law of cataUxis, a principle which in later
life Patmore appeared to me to carry beyond due
bounds, maintaining that it was of the essence of all,
even of blank verse. But as regards very many
forms of metre I believe him to have been right,
Tennyson's clever skit upon one portion of the
essay notwithstanding. The passage referred to in
Tennyson's letter is as follows :

*^ The six-syllable ' iambic ' is the most solemn of all our
English measures. It is scarcely fit for anything but a
dirge ; the reason being, that the first pause in this measure
is greater, when compared with the length of the line, than
in any other verse. Here is an example which I select on
account of the peculiar illustration of its nature as a
' dimeter brachycatalectic ' which is supplied by the filling
up of the measure in the seventh line :

112 COVENTRY PATMORE

* How strange it is to wake

And watch, while others sleep,
Till sight and hearing ache

For objects that may keep
The awful inner sense

Unroused, lest it should mark
The life that haunts the emptiness

And horror of the dark/ "

The lines quoted are taken from a comparatively
early poem of Patmore's entitled " Night and Sleep/'
reprinted from Eraser, Eebruary, 1854, in "Tamer-
ton Church Tower." He continues :

" We have only to fill up the measure in every line as
well as in the seventh in order to change this verse from
the slowest and most mournful to the most rapid and high-
spirited of all English metres, the common * eight syllable
quatrain.' "

On this Tennyson writes as follows :

" My dear C. p.

. . . Specimen of the * niost solemn * English metre :

' How glad I am to walk

With Susan on the shore !
How glad I am to talk !

I kiss her o'er and o'er.
I clasp her slender waist,

We kiss, we are so fond.
When she and I are thus embraced

There's not a joy beyond.

Is this C.P.'s most solemn ?

* Specimen of the " most high-spirited'' metre,

* How strange it is, O God, to wake.

To watch and wake while others sleep.
Till heart and sight and hearing ache

For common objects that would keep
Our awful inner ghostly sense

Unroused, lest it by chance should mark
The life that haunts the emptiness

And horrors of the formless dark.

* Is this C.P's rapid and high-spirited ? A. T"

POETIC EDUCATION 113

This clever attempt to turn the tables on Patmore
must not, I think, be taken too seriously. The first
" specimen " seems to be ^jm d esprit similar to that
often performed by musicians who by a change of
time transform a " Dead March " into a jig, or a
comic song into a dirge — without however seriously
compromising the fitness for their several purposes
of the original forms. The second specimen seems
distinctly to have lost in solemnity by the "filling
up " of the suppressed syllables. The letter is quoted
in Lord Tennyson's life of his father.

Though so close a student of the poetic art in all
its branches, Patmore was never, in one sense, a
metrist, that is to say, he never seems to have in-
clined towards intricate metrical schemes. The only
poems of his which show any approach to formal
elaboration are a single sonnet and some verses
entitled "Little Edith. 11./' beginning •' I say, 'I
must amend me*". The latter were originally
printed in " Eraser," as were two other poems on
the same subject, and this and the sonnet are re-
printed in " Tamerton Church Tower." So far as I
know, Patmore never wrote another sonnet, and j/
indeed held that sonnet writing was a mistake, " the
game not being worth the candle." Otherwise he
wrote almost exclusively in "Iambic" feet, adopt-
ing in earlier life, for the most part, varieties of the
ordinary rhymed couplet, while later, in the Odes
and " Amelia ", he imparted freedom and complexity
to a verse, still entirely of "Iambics," by greatly
varying the length of the line and letting the rhyme
fall at unequal intervals — both length of line and
distribution of rhyme being ruled by a law that
defies analysis.

Between the immature early poems and the
" Angel in the House," to the writing of which all
Patmore's technical training was being devoted.

114 COVENTRY PATMORE

appeared, in 1853, ** Tamerton Church Tower",
which may be r^jarded as a sort of " preliminary
canter" to the later poem. Indeed it includes two
/ poems — " Ladies' Praise" and " Love's Apology" —
which were afterwards incorporated in the ** Angel."
Patmore sent the volume to Carlyle and received
from him a most cordial and encouraging letter
which is printed, with others of his, in vol. ii.

The external setting of the poem which gives its
name to the volume is derived from recollections of
an expedition to Cornwall made in company with a
friend, a son of Sir Goldsworthy Gumey, who had a
place in the Duchy. I have not been able to ascer-
tain the exact date of this journey : it must however
have been before 1845 > ^^^ ^^ ^^ recorded that the
friend in whose company it was made was of a some-
what different type from those with whom Patmore
usually associated. These were for the most part
poets and literary men, whereas Mr. Gumey was, as
the poem indicates, more like the ordinary man-of-
the- world. He does not appear in Patmore's corre-
spondence, nor is there any direct evidence that
P. G. Patmore had been a friend of the eminent in-
ventor and had named his youngest son after him,
though this seems probable. The principal feminine
characters pourtrayed are both relatives of Emily
Patmore*s — *' Ruth," a younger sister, and " Blanche,"
a niece — the resemblance in the latter case being, as
Emily Patmore points out (p. 154), merely physical.
The principal poem, though showing a very sub-
stantial advance upon the earlier work both in
subject and in form, still seems in both respects to
fall far short of that which was to succeed it. The
verse is less felicitous ; the description of one at least
of the female characters and the love-making gener-
ally less delicate and refined. As regards technique
Patmore was to make substantial advance in the

POETIC EDUCATION 115

interval ; while, for subject, every year spent with his
wife Emily was initiating him more and more into
the " infinite^jmystery and delicacy" of marriage.
That she wbs the Thspiration of his greater poem,
that with her were associated all the most poignant
experiences of his life, whether of joy or sorrow, is
no secret ; but the precise nature and extent of her
influence on him and on his thought and work can
only be determined by a study of her character and
life.

CHAPTER X

EMILY AUGUSTA PATMORE

I.

"To the Memory of her by whom and for Whom I became a Poet."

FOR every sympathetic reader of " The Angel
in the House " a special interest will attach to
|[he poet's first wife, of whom the words qtioted
above, tiie dedication to this poem, seem to be literally
true. Though Patmore was already, both by idio$yn-
crasy and, as he believed, almost by a supernabural
, ^command, devoted to the praise of womanhood and of
^nuptial love, he could not conceivably have accom-
plished his task as he has done had he remained with-
out personal experience of married life, on had the
partner of his earlier manhood been less qualified to
serve as a revelation to him of the perfection io which
a woman, as wife and mother, may attain.

Nevertheless it is, as I think, by misapprehension
of Patmore*s main intention in the poem that many
have been led to seek and to find in it a definite
portrait of his wife. There is of course an obvious
departure from the actual in the circumstances of the
heroine — such a shifting of the scenery as second-rate
artists often think sufficient to establish as an original
creation what is really a mere study from life. But
though Patmore, by altering the milieu — changing
the father-in-law of the lady to an Anglican dean
from a Nonconformist minister, substituting affluence
for slender means, and other minor changes — doubt-
less intended to divorce the study from actual fact, he
has not limited himself to mere external difference.

/ 'mdc < lui/u ittj . Jij/mt n

EMILY PATMORE 117

but it has been his consistent purpose to present a
perfect picture of womanhood by means of knowledge
revealed to him through his wife. She was to the
poet as a model is to the painter of the ideal ; but
with this exception to an artist's usual experience,
that there was no need to improve upon her. To
idealize, in the sense of raising from a lower to a
higher standard within the limits of humanity, was
impossible. He could do no more than generalize ;
avoiding in the main direct portraiture as well in
personality as in circumstance.

Such I have, from merely internal evidence, always
held to have been his design ; and this view is con-
firmed by the fact that none of the very few people
living who knew Emily Augusta Patmore well can
point to more than a few passages in ** The Angel "
which appear to them to represent her personality.
I also find in a diary of Patmore's, written after her
death, the following heading : ** Passages of * The
Angel in the House* which more particularly describe
or apply to her." This is all : the passages were
never transcribed. But the entry appears to me to
imply — a ver>^ moderate space being left between
this and the next — that he would have found but a
few quotations which embody direct portraiture.
This view too is more definitely confirmed by the
following extract from one of his letters to his wife :

" Mrs. Ruskin seemed to think that the Poem did you
the highest honour, saying, in answer to tny denial of person-
ality\ that it was impossible for a man to write such a poem
without an admirable wife."

Dr. Garnett, in the graceful tribute to her memory
which he included in his obituary notice of Coventry
Patmore,* says, " Her appearance is well described by
her husband when he sings :

' "Saturday Review," Dec 5, 1896.

ii8 COVENTRY PATMORE

" Her Norman face.
Her lai^e brown eyes, clear lakes of Love." *

This no doubt would have been one of the pas-
.sages transcribed in the diary ; and even had there
been many others given, I should still hold to the
opinion that, although, in spite of the poet's intention
to avoid portraiture, his love for her had occasionally
forced his hand, it had not done so frequently enough
to compromise the main design of the poem, or to
effect a transition from the general to the particular.

But, if Emily Patmore is to be held by the readers
of the poem mainly as the model for a picture of
ideal womanhood, she was also much more than this.
She was to the poet as would be to the painter a model

* The quotation is evidently from memory. I give the passage
more in full, and as it was printed, for the whole (especially the
first seven words), is descriptive of Emily Patmore :

..." In shape, no slender Grace

But Venus, milder than the dove ;
Her mother's air : her Norman face,

Her large, sweet eyes, clear lakes of love."

It must be admitted that the impression produced on her ac-
quaintance by Emily Patmore was not uniformly that which is in-
dicated by this quotation. To some she appears to have assumed
an aspect of "immobility," both in appearance and manner.
Mr. Gosse records that Mrs. Carlyle " extending a catlike paw,
accused her of always trying to look like a medallion" (probably the
actual words used were "/^ medallion," meaning that by Woolner) ;
and though I should be glad to acquit Mrs. Carlyle of an additional
asperity (she has plenty to answer for, and this does not appear to
have been one of the most intelligent), I think the sarcasm was
actually uttered, and that it tallied with a certain mien which Emily
Patmore presented to a limited number of her friends. A passage
in Browning's verses given below (p. 149) seems to confirm this im-
pression, though the exact meaning is none too obvious, and it
might be taken in an uncomplimentary sense which was certainly
not intended. But so far as Mrs. Carlyle's remark implies self-con-
sciousness or pose, it may be pronounced to be completely and
almost stupidly unjust. The evidence that Emily Patmore was
exceptionally simple and natural is overwhelming.

EMILY AUGUSTA PATMORE.
From m mcdallkm by T. Woolner, R.A.

7>>r

EMILY PATMORE 119

who could inspire, suggest, direct, criticize, and her-
self supply touches of substantial value. Patmore
pays a tribute to " the subtilty and severity of her
taste in poetry, to which * The Angel * owes what-
ever completeness it has, not to mention many of
the best thoughts, which stand verbatim as she gave
them me ; " and in absence, while he had the work
in hand, she was always thinking of it, trying to find
for him new thoughts, on which it is evident from
the correspondence that he largely depended for his
material ; while many of her letters to him, obviously
written without conscious aim at helping his work,
abound in passages which have evidently suggested
many of the best and most delicate appreciations of
feminine nature which the poem contains. To him
she was literally ** Love's self, so Love s interpreter,"
possessing not merely the elementary feelings of
perfect womanhood, but also, what is far more rare, the
power of expressing them and making them intel-
ligible to a man ; while her complete candour, the
candour of an innocence which has nothing to con-
ceal, made full self-revelation possible and even easy
to her.

To me at least it always seemed that Patmore
had obtained a far deeper insight into the feminine
soul than is given to any but a very few men ; nor
do I think that this is more largely due to his
natural qualifications for his task than to the privilege
of a specially close union, both of heart and mind, with
a wife of unusual power and delicacy of feeling. It
was in fact the combination of original interest and
discernment with exceptional advantages of circum-
stance that served to raise him above most of those
masculine writers who have had similar aims.
Scarcely ever can a poet have owed to his wife so
large a debt.

I20 COVENTRY PATMORE

II.

In my endeavour to compose some record of Emily
Augusta Patmore, I have thought it well to give
precedence to her influence on her husband's poem,
as it will be in this connection that she will primarily
be a subject of interest to most readers. But this
aspect of her is by no means the only one which is
worthy of being commemorated. Unfortunately the
materia] available is anything but abundant Though
but thirty-seven years have passed since her death,
and though, were she alive, she would not even now
have reached extreme old age, few of those who knew
her well survive to furnish recollections. This is
partly due to the fact that many of Patmore's
associates during the years of his first marriage
were substantially his elders, and also because the
circle admitted to intimacy was by no means wide.

By far the larger part of the available material is
contained in records in Patmore's own hand; the
diary in which, both before and immediately after his
wife's death, he recorded events, feelings, and aspira-
tions connected with her ; extracts from their corre-
spondence which he transcribed ; the touching little
memoir of her mother, written at the request of a
friend by the eldest daughter while still a child ; and
some few letters of her own to various correspondents.
There are also the two little books which she pub-
lished—one of verses for children,by * * Mrs. Motherly,"
which I find was very popular with those who were
children thirty years ago ; the other a prose volume
called " The Servants' Behaviour Book," which,
written in a clear, direct style, free from all artifice
and afiectation, gives proof of a sympathetic power
to enter into the difficulties and trials of another
class.

Of these records Patmore's own diary is of course

EMILY PATMORE 121

far the most valuable, overflowing as it is with tender
devotion, with heart-searching pathos, and with the
most intimate self-revelation; and it is of further
interest because it embodies the germs of many of
the finest " Odes/' which were written none much
less than six years after his bereavement: so per-
manent were the impressions then received.

The years of sorrow which followed her death were
the seed-time of his highest poetry ; and, if in her life-
time his wife was so largely the inspirer of the earlier
work, love for her, consecrated by death, is proved by
these records to have germinated into his highest
thought and his loftiest verse. Indeed it is not too
much to assert that the great change which all students
of Patmore's poems must recognize, both in form and
idea, between the earlier and the later verse — between
•• The Angel in the House," together with all which
preceded it, and the ** Odes," — is due to his loss, and
represents the transition from Love in earthly fruition
to Love in the realm of spiritual aspiration, in which
sphere it becomes more and more closely identified
with that Divine Love which is the main and almost
exclusive subject of his later work. The new ideal
required and suggested a new form of poetic expres-
sion, which it found in the free and lofty music of
the •• Odes."

The records I have alluded to are of too intimate
a nature to be used otherwise than sparingly and
with discretion. The diary mentioned seems to have
been intended for Patmore s own exclusive use. Still
I cannot believe that he would have grudged its
employment for the purpose of doing honour to his
wife's memory, nor do I see how else the extreme
tenderness of his affection and the loyalty of his
love can be shown and proved. Apart from these
memorials such qualities could be merely taken on
trust, or deduced from his poems ; and it is notorious

t\

122 COVENTRY PATMORE

that poetry does not necessarily embody the actual
experience of the writer. The book in which the
correspondence is copied is entided by Patmore
** Liber Amoris," and gives a picture of married love
which can seldom have been equalled ; for though
one may hope that similar affection is not unpre-
cedented, there cannot often have been, on both
sides, an equal power of expression.

It is strange that the title should be the same as
that given to Hazlitt's letters, with which Patmore
and his father are both, though so differendy, as-
sociated ; and I cannot resist the conclusion that he
had chosen the name with the deliberate purpose of
emphasizing the contrast. In this case at least there
can be no similar motive for reticence. No moral
injury could result from the revelation of this chaste
and constant passion ; but it may be an even greater
\ '■ crime to tear the veil from a sanctuary than to lift the
1^.* ; lid of a dust-bin. If the more sceptical reader in-
clines to discount the testimony of one who was a
fervent lover in life and in death, I can only reply that
this constant and ever-increasing devotion to a wife
and to her memory on the part of a man like Patmore,
who cannot be supposed by those who knew him to
have ever been other than critical and autocratic, if not
exacting, is in itself no slight evidence of her desert ;
and also that all who remember her confirm the
essential truth of her husband's tribute.

Dr. Garnett describes her thus : " This admirable
lady . . . impressed me ... as a Queen ruling by
Love and Wisdom,

* A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food,*

wise, witty, frank, gracious, hospitable, without flaw
or blemish that I could ever discover, but perfectly
at home in this terrestrial sphere " ; and this picture

EMILY PATMORE 123

of her is but a more skilful expression of the testimony
given by others. The adoration for her of the
daughters who survive has never suffered by lapse
of time, and, even in later years, any resemblance to
her in another has at once attracted their friendship
as nothing else could do.

It is scarcely surprising that one endowment which
Emily Patmore undoubtedly possessed, that of wit
and humour, should not have been fully illustrated
by her husband. He does indeed record "her
admirable wit and humour in expressing suddenly
and epigrammatically an apt truth,'* but gives no
instances. The omission is assuredly not due to any
insensitiveness on his part, for he was exceptionally
appreciative of such qualities in others. Rather
must it be ascribed to the circumstances under which
these memorials were written, in which examples of
the gift might have appeared to sound a discordant
note. Dr. Garnett, who has in the passage quoted
above described her as ** witty," tells me that she
had once designed a story for children ( I do not know
that it was ever written) of which the subject was
to be a race of men with tails ; which appendages,
being less under control than the facial muscles, were
to make hypocrisy impossible. If, for example, a story
of a friend's misfortunes actually aroused pleasurable
sensations in the hearer, it would be in vain that he
would pull the conventional long face or utter words
of insincere sympathy. The candid tail would auto-
matically wag, revealing the genuine sentiment. ** Ex
pede Herculem." This, almost the only recoverable
example of her wit, seems to justify Dr. Garnett s
encomium, which moreover some few of the passages
given below will, to some extent, confirm.

It is necessary to assert positively, on the strength
of convincing evidence, that Emily Patmore was,

";'«

124 COVENTRY PATMORE

during the greater part of her married life, in complete
harmony with her husband, not merely on subordinate
matters of opinion, but on the higher ground of
religious thought. At first indeed they met on some-
what different planes. Patmore was, at the time of
their marriage, an Anglican of the "higher*' type,
with at least some degree of Rome-ward tendency ;
while his wife, who had been brought up in Non-
conformity, and whose great affection and reverence
J for her father exercised a strong influence over her
' ^ long after his death, was a Protestant of a somewhat
Puritanical sort. It was not however long before, by
mutual accommodation, acommon ground was reached,
she accepting the position of a High Church Anglican,

: and he surrendering whatever he then had of leaning

-* towards Rome ; nor did she fail to enter into full

sympathy with those spiritual ideas which, then as

^ later, were of the essence of his faith.

^ After her death, among the records preserved of

.---V I her, Patmore has transcribed in full the passages

\' she had marked in her favourite books. Of these

^^ J^ none seem to have been more carefully read than
"^ Thomas h Kempis s ** Imitatio Christi " and the works
of Jeremy Taylor ; and in the former of these she
has marked passages for approval or disapproval.
The selection is precisely such as those who knew
Patmore would have expected him to make for him-
self, and marks of interrogation are affixed to senti-
ments to which he would certainly have taken excep-
tion. It is the more transcendental thoughts of these
writers which attracted her especial attention, while
those from which she dissents are such as seem to
' disparage human affection and to treat it as incompa-
tible with the full fruition of Divine Love. In con-
nection with one passage thus marked Patmore writes
in his diary, " Dear Love ! she knew that, for those
who love each other in Christ, this is quite untrue ! "

EMILY PATMORE 125

The position intimated is in exact accordance with
what was, then and later, Patmore's most deeply
held conviction. To him, the highest exaltation o£
hunian affection was the best evidence and interpre-
tation of the Divine, always enhancing and never
compromising the closeness of Spiritual Communion ;
and in this, the very quintessence of his religious
philosophy, she was in full accord with him. It is
also evident that he was, during the years of his first
marriage and for some time after his wife's death,
satisfied with her arguments against the Roman
Catholic claims. With his characteristic hatred of
disputation, he left it to her to confute the prose-
lytists who approached them, but gave his full assent
to her conduct of the controversies which were
forced on them, and to her conclusions. I am aware
that this statement is more or less in contradiction to
Patmore's own retrospective account of his position
at this time ; but these memoranda, made immediately
after his wife's death, seem to me to be more con-
vincing evidence than recollections written many
years later. That Patmore had, from quite early
years, felt somewhat drawn towards the Roman
Church is certain : Dr. Garnett's evidence on this
point is sufficient. Nevertheless I am convinced
that in the retrospect taken after his change of creed
the leaning towards Rome seemed to him to have
been stronger and the variance from his wife's posi-
tion greater than it actually was. But she is proved
by these records to have been one to encourage rather
than to check his more transcendental thought, and
to give full sympathy to his more mystic apprehen-
sions.

Patmore has recorded, both in his diaries and in
his poems, his wife's tenderness and patience with
their children. I remember too his once saying to
me : " while all Christians could teach their children

«>1-^^

126 COVENTRY PATMORE

that they had a Divine Father, at how great an
advantage were those who could tell them of a
Divine Mother." But her wisdom in control was
no less conspicuous than her unselfish devotion.
As an instance, he used to tell the following story.
One of their sons was asking for some gift or
indulgence which his mother did not think well to
grant. The boy threatened her that, if she did not
yield, he would dash his head against the fender. She
quietly said, " Do so, my son." Whereupon the child
burst into a passionate flood of tears, exclaiming,
" But you love me so, mama ! "

This anecdote accords with certain passages from

. her correspondence, which show that, however tender

Swere her feelings, she was by no means given to

-J that sentimental softness which her husband held in

-^t^ ' ^"^ I abhorrence./ ^ 1

^ ^ III.

Before passing to the memoranda and correspond-
ence, which give the best and most authentic picture
of Emily Patmore s character, it may be well to
record briefly the events of a life which, in its out-
ward aspect, was simple and uneventful.

Emily Augusta Andrews, the fifth daughter and
eighth child of the Reverend Edward Andrews and
Eliza Honoria his wife, was born on Feb. 29, 1824.
Her father was the Congregational minister of
Beresford Chapel, Walworth, occupying a high posi-
tion among his co-religionists, by whom he is said to
have been regarded as ** a sort of Pope." The most
important member of the congregation to which he
preached each Sunday "a somewhat eloquent, forcible,
and ingenious sermon," was Mr. Ruskin senior,
whose son has recorded * the aspect of the chapel as

* " Praeterita," part i., chap. vii.

EMILY PATMORE 127

it presented itself to his youthful eyes. The
building, Mr. Ruskin says, *'was the Londonian
chapel in its perfect type, definable as accurately as
a Roman basilica — an oblong, flat-ceiled bam, lighted
by windows with semi-circular heads, brick-arched,
filled by small-paned glass held by iron bars, like
fine threaded halves 01 cobwebs ; galleries propped
on iron pipes, up both sides; pews, well shut in,
each of them, by partitions of plain deal, and neatly
brass-latched deal doors, filling the barn floor, all
but its lateral, straw-matted passages; pulpit, sub-
limely isolated, central from sides and clear of altar-
rails at end, a stout, four-legged box of well-grained
wainscot, high as the level of front galleries, and
decorated with a cushion of crimson velvet, padded
six inches thick, with gold tassels at the corners;
which was a great resource to me when I was tired
of the sermon, because I liked watching the rich
colour of the folds and creases that came in it when
the clergyman thumped it."

Dr. Andrews seems to have been kind and charit-
able to his flock and a careful and affectionate father
to his children. His wife, the daughter of a minister,
a gentle and delicate woman, died of consumption
while her younger daughters were mere children.
Her husband, who appears to have held more ad-
vanced views on the education of women than were
usual at the period, taught his younger children ; and
Emily Augusta, who had a talent for languages, learnt
Greek' and Latin, in which she acquired at least
enough proficiency to enable her to help her sons in
their preparation for school and for the Navy. At

* Dr. Andrews does not however seem to have had much know-
ledge of Greek* He was employed at a somewhat earlier date to
teach Mr. Ruskin, who writes (" Praeterita," part i^ chap, iv.) :
'* The Doctor, it afterwards turned out, knew httle more of Greek
than the letters and declensions of nouns ; but he wrote the letters
prettilyt and had an accurate and sensitive ear for rhythm."

128 COVENTRY PATMORE

the age of fifteen she undertook the entire manage-
ment of her father's house, doing also, with great
sweetness and grace, all the duties which usually
devolve on the wife of a conscientious minister.

Dr. Andrews died in 1841. Emily Augusta then
went to live with an uncle, over whose house she
presided until his death, after which she for a short
time lived with her eldest sister, Mrs. Orme.

This life of somewhat premature responsibility
tended to sever her from companions of her own age,
and she used to tell her daughters that, living so much
with older people, she had felt herself somewhat
detached from the ordinary society of girlhood.

A lady who, though some years younger, was her
frequent companion and lifelong friend, relates the
following story of her own early youth. She and
her sister, who were quite young children, were walk-
ing in Emily Andrews's charge in some lanes near
London. They crossed a stile and found themselves
in the presence of a savage bull, who at once made
for them. Emily kept the animal at bay, by rapidly
opening and shutting a lace parasol which she was
carrying, till the children had recrossed the stile.
As soon as they were safe, she leisurely retreated,
still facing the bull and keeping him off, puzzled and
confused by the dexterous use of her flimsy weapon
of defence. The lady who tells the story adds that
years afterwards in India, finding herself in a similar
predicament, this time with a wild boar for adversary,
her friend's tactics suddenly recurred to her memory,
and she was able to save her life by the same means.*

Mrs. Orme, who had a large acquaintance among
literary people, was intimate with the Laman

^ A similar story is told in " Evenings at Home," the scene being
India. If Emily Andrews's action was suggested by the story in
this book, the idea had travelled back to the country of its
origin.

EMILY PATMORE 129

Blanchards, who were also friends of Peter George
Patmore. Emily Augusta had twice made long tours
on the Continent with Mrs. Vigers, a sister of
Laman Blanchard. It was probably through this
family association that Coventry Patmore first became
acquainted with his future wife. At any rate they
met, fell in love with each other, and, in the course
of a walk over the Hampstead fields, those now
crossed by Redington Road (I remember Patmore
pointing out to me the scene of the proposal), an offer
of marriage was made, and accepted, on May 1 7th,
1847. Dr. Gamett tells me that, during the engage-
ment, Patmore, desiring to discover how far his future
wife's opinions were in accord with his own, lent her
Emerson's Essays, asking her to note the passages
of which she specially approved or disapproved ;
and found, to his intense satisfaction, that her com-
ments were precisely what he himself would have made.
Doubtless, as Dr. Gamett remarks, a lover would
be apt to accept the views of the lady of his love.
Still I think that in this case the endorsement implied
real harmony of thought ; for Patmore s opinions were
always too definite and fixed to yield to any merely
personal influence. They were married at St John's
Church, Hampstead, on September nth, the same
year, and spent their honeymoon at Hastings, a place
specially dear to Patmore, as it was here that '• in
childhood, turning a dim street, he first beheld the
ocean." Thenceforward Emily Augusta's history
becomes for the most part merged in that of her
husband. The records which remain serve mainly
to amplify and confirm Patmore's testimony to her
character.

It was her pride and pleasure to make the modest
home attractive to her husband and his intimates,
and she had an exceptional talent for making her
household arrangements, on ver>' slender means.

I. K

I30 COVENTRY PATMORE

express comfort, refinement, and distinction. Pat-
more's friends, attracted not less by her grace and
beauty than by his trenchant originality, loved to
enjoy their hospitality ; and their house became a
meeting- place for much of the best intellect of the
day. Tennyson, Ruskin, Carlyle, Browning, with
many others of only less note, were frequent visitors ;*
and Emily Patmore, always gracious and hospitable,
proved an excellent and appreciative listener to the
masculine talk ; — able too to take her own modest
1/ part in the more Olympian conversation by apt and
witty remarks, while her deft fingers (she was a
notable handler of the needle) were always occupied
with embroidery or work of more practical utility.
The charm of this centre of " plain living and high
thinking " still survives in the memory of some few
who were of the circle.

She possessed in an exceptional degree the faculty
of training and managing her servants; and the
power she showed was due not more largely to tact
than to a good-will and sympathy which often led
her to make considerable sacrifices for them. On
two occasions she found that one of her maids was
" keeping company," without immediate or definite

* A record of one such gathering survives in Patmore's own
words. He used to tell the story more graphically than it is given
here, but I print it as written by him in 1880 or 1881 : "When
we lived at *the Grove, Highgate Rise' in a house which has
since been burned down, we once had a small party, consisting
of Ruskin, Tennyson and Browning only. Sydney Dobell came
in late in the evening, and sat down by my wife, and b^an talking
cleverly and very predominantly, laying down the law about many
things. Hearing my wife address Mr. Ruskin by name, he asked
in a whisper, * Is that fAe Mr. Ruskin ? ' and became a little less
authoritative. After making similar inquiries when he heard the
other names, he became quite shy. There are however many
passages in Dobell's poems which none present need have been
ashamed to own, though most of his work is exasperating
rubbish."

EMILY PATMORE 131

prospect of marriage. Considering the position un-
satisfactory and of risk to the girl, and being a strong
advocate of matrimony, she persuaded the lovers to
marry forthwith, taking on herself all the trouble
and expense of the wedding, and giving the breakfast
at her own house.

To her children she was a most devoted mother,
training them to be, like herself, "simple, truthful,
and honourable." For the little daughter who was
an invalid she had a special tenderness, and never
failed, when she went to London, to bring her some
little present to compensate for the loss of pleasures
which her brothers and sisters were able to enjoy.
The same daughter used, during her mother's last
illness, to be taken to her bedside and taught her
prayers. She remembers her mother saying to her,
** I wish so much, dear, I had been alive in the time
of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Then I would have
taken you to Him to be ciured, and I am sure He
would have done it.*'

While devotedly nursing one of her children, she
neglected a cold, which proved the beginning of the
disease of which, some three years later, she died.
Her illness caused a considerable change in her
manner of life. Ordered by the doctors to try
various health-resorts, she was frequently absent
from her home and family ; and it is to this that we
owe the greater part of those beautiful letters which
are the best revelation of her character. She was
obliged to limit her domestic occupations ; and, as
she could never be happy without useful employ-
ment, she devoted her time to writing. Dome
children's stories of hers appeared in the juvenile
periodicals of the day : one, it may be noted, was
refused by all the publishers for a reason which is
worth recording. This was a story called "The
Runaway Boy." In it she showed so much com-

7n

S

V- 132 COVENTRY PATMORE

/ i

\/ I passion for children's troubles, such sympathy with
their little naughtinesses, that it was held likely to
encourage young readers to follow the example of
the hero and run away too. It was under these cir-
cumstances also that she wrote " Nursery Rhymes,
by Mrs. Motherly," " The Servants' Behaviour
Book," "The History of Joseph and his Brethren,"
and " Nursery Stories."

During her long illness she was indefatigably
cared for by her husband and her widowed sister,
Georgiana Patmore. George Patmore, a younger
brother of Coventry's, had, in 1854, married
Georgiana Andrews, a younger and specially dear
sister of Emily's, and had died, less than two years
later, in the Island of Johanna, Mozambique
Channel. She is described by one who knew her
as a " sweet, sensible, and in every way most sterling
woman, the Ruth of * Tamerton Church Tower.' "^

The progress of the disease was rapid, and in
1 860 her life was despaired of. The following letter
was written when the anxiety for her was most
acute :

" Finchley, Aug., i860.

" Dearest,

" I had a letter from Brett insisting on your seeing
Dr. Kidd, and saying that, as money could be our only
objection, he also insisted on paying a fee for him to go
down to see you : accordingly he enclosed ;^20. Just think
of the poor young painter's devotion to you. He will be
my dearest friend to the end of my life. Of course I shall
call on Dr. Kidd, and he will say what all the doctors say,
that your cure must be wrought by nature. That will
satisfy dear, faithful Brett, and I shall send him back his
;^20, which is most likely the greater part of all he had in
the world. I am sure this ought to do you more good than
the finest summer day. . . .

" Good-night. Pray for fine weather.

" Coventry."

* "Tamerton Church Tower," iv. 4.

EMILY PATMORE 133

She made all preparations for death, wrote down
her wishes and instructions for the management of
the children, made her will, and selected a spot in
Hendon Churchyard for the grave in which two
years later her body was laid. Though an unex-
pected rally postponed the inevitable ending, her
husband underwent at this time all the bitterness of
parting from her, and much of the material of '* The
Victories of Love" (the poem was mainly written
before her death) is derived from the experiences
of this earlier period.

She earnestly desired that he should marry again,
and pressed this on him both by her will and by a long
letter in which she explained her motives. Her will
was found by Patmore in her desk (in i860) when the
immediate danger was passed. In it she says : " 1
leave my wedding-ring to your second wife with my
love and blessing . . . also, I leave you my grateful
acknowledgment of your goodness and love to me,
my last prayer that God may bless and console you,
my first, last, and only love. If in a year or two you
are able to marry again, do so happily, feeling that if L ^
my spirit can watch you, it will love her who makes
you happy, and not envy her the reward of a part of
your love, the best years of which I have had." *
Patmore records that, " scarcely comprehending the /
profundity of her self-abnegation in a matter in '
which he himself would have felt so differently," he
remonstrated with her, and that in answer she referred
him to the Scriptural permission, adding, '* You can- l-^^
not be faithful to God and unfaithful to me" ;' and in 1
a letter, written a year later, she says that as regards 1
the children, in taking a second wife,

" there will be no change from one rule to the other, so

* Cf. "Victories of Love," Yiii.

• Cf. " Tired Memory."

il

134 COVENTRY PATMORE

fatal to discipline and good feeling. You will be able to
help and advise with a freedom you could never do to a
I stranger, and your dear wife, whom you will love as a
( friend, will soon learn that her best way of expressing her
! love for you will be to watch tenderly over your little lambs
— and surely she must have a hard heart who will not love
such pretty and amiable children as ours. ... I have
brought the children to look forward to your second mar-
riage as a probable and desirable thing. They will not
prejudice their new mother against them by giving her an
ill reception. The two little ones will feel her to be their
natural parent May God bless you and keep you, and
direct you in this and all your steps.

"Your fond and faithful Wife."

These years of reprieve, not unrelieved by gleams
of delusive hope, were of inestimable value to both.
The imminence of death had revealed, as nothing else
could do, the depth and unselfishness of her love :
the spiritual union had been strengthened and con-
solidated, and had acquired a sanctity which seldom
comes till after the actual parting.^ Her sufferings
were to the last borne heroically, and the approach of
death was faced without terror or even sorrow, save
for those she was leaving. She died, July 5th, 1862,
at a little house at North End, Hampstead, then
known as Elm Cottage.*

* In 1 86 1, when his wife seemed out of danger, Patmore records
in his diary, among other " Memoranda for thanksgiving " (given
above pp. 102-104), thefollowing: "For her wonderful restoration to
my prayers. For the great increase of our love through the many
active proofs and exercises of love produced by her long danger.
For the greater and more sensible tenderness which the precarious
tenure of her life causes between us." To this note he adds after
her death : " Thank God ! I did not wait for death to show me
the value of my Treasure."

* Patmore tried years afterwards to purchase this cottage, but
was unable to do so. It was pulled down and rebuilt within a
very short time of his own death. The new house bears the name
" Elmwood."

EMILY PATMORE 135

IV.

The following extracts are selected from the letters
which Coventry Pat more wrote to Emily Augusta
Andrews :

^ I have been meditating a poem for you ; but I am
determined not to give you anything I write unless it is the
best thing I have ever written. O, how much the best it
ought to be, if it would do justice to its subject"

" I have not the least dread of making you vain. Women
who are merely • pretty ' or * handsome ' always are more or
less vain, but real beauty like yours is never vain ; it is like
genius, which is always humble, while * talent ' and * clever-
ness ' are always proud."

These are from their correspondence after marriage :

C. P. to E. A. P.

'' Museum, Jan. 31, 1848.
" I have just now opened Scott's * Life of Dryden ' at the
following passage : * The wife of one who has to gain his
livelihocxl by Poetry, or by any labour equally exhausting,
must either have taste enough to relish her husband's per-
formances or good-nature sufficient to pardon his infirmities.'
How happy am I in possessing a wife who has both. C.P."

" The desire of mind to mind is never satiated but rather •
continually increased by inter-communion : when this desire
of soul for soul is true, all other desire follows, and, as far
as possible, keeps pace ; and receives glory from its happy
symbolization of the spiritual yearning : therefore we have
found and shall find that each commemoration of our
wedding-day is more than a renewal of that day ; that the
bride and bridegroom have not been lost in the husband
and wife, but that the never-failing freshness and mystery of
marriage is increased each year by the sum of all the love
and joy which have arisen between us during its happy
months.

** Nor does the sense of my total undesert take away any-
thing from my happiness. It adds to it I can compare
the joy with which I remember that you honour me by
your love to nothing except the joy with which I sometimes

136 COVENTRY PATMORE

feel myself to be the recipient of heavenly pardon and
grace.

" The noblest of men whom we have the good fortune to
love and to be loved by, says that there is merit between
man and man, tho' not between man and God : * but there is
no merit, I feel, between a man and a woman who perfectly
love each other, and enjoy the heaven of marriage.

" Let us crown all our blessings by feeling grateful to God
for them. What could we have prayed for that we have
not ? We are married, and love completely : we have a sweet
little outward symbol of our union : St. Paul's ' prayer that
we should have neither riches nor poverty has been ours,
and it has been granted : that we may not be narrow and
selfish in our bliss, a friend ' has been given us, whom we
have every reason to think echoes our devotion to him not
faintly ; so that our circle of love is complete ; and if, as
we think, it is deficient in breadth, it certainly makes up
in fervour and solid results of good for any such deficiency.
Around this circle goes a larger one of good acquaintances,
which, if we did not know what true friendship is, we should
call good friends. Lastly, all these blessings are hallowed,
and our bliss made perifect, by knowing that we have
accepted the salvation of God in Christ, and that we are re-
solved to work out our salvation with fear and trembling,
and that it is a good thing for us to be in the powef of the
Lord. C. P."

The reader who knows Plato will scarcely fail
to detect the close resemblance which the earlier
part of this letter bears to the philosopher s thought.
In copying it into the volume which he calls ** Liber
Amoris" (in 1863), Patmore eliminated all the allu-
sions to Tennyson.

E. A. P. to C. P., 1849.

" Mrs. V. seemed so much astonished at two or three
kind stories I told of you . . . that I could not help asking

^ See prologue to " In Memoriam."

* It should be " the words of Azur the son of Jakeh." — Pro-
verbs, XXX. 8.

* A. Tennyson.

EMILY PATMORE 137

her what had given her sach an opposite impression of 3^00.
After much persuasion she confessed that it was your
* haughty manner/ and my appearance of instant submission
to your slightest wish, urtiich she thought must come from
fear."

^ From me (C P.) while staying at Coniston with Mr. and
MrsL Tennyson, in iSsa''

•* Mr. and Mrs. Tennyson will stand for Baby.* . . . T.
seems to have talked so much to his wife about you that
she already knows 3rou and counts on you for a friend. . . .
T. and I were taking a long walk on Friday, and had been
talking for hours about other matters, when suddenly he
said, 'What do you think of her?' 'WhoP'Isaid. 'Her,
my wife.' . . . • Yes,' he said, ' she is quite a perfect woman.
She is a good deal like your wife.' "

E. A P. to C. P., 185a
** I can quite reconcile myself to this scditode for the sake
of Baby's health and the Poem. Remember all these ad-
vantages. Dear, and think how wrong it would be to let
such an opportunity pass by.**

•* I have been trying to get some * Ideas ' for you,* but
have only found one, and that a bad one I fear, as the fruit
of a morning's thought"

" It requires separation to keep up the mere romance of
love. ... I daresay we shall find throi^ our whole lirei
that we shall fancy the romance is gone whenever we have
been together for twelve months ; whereas a week's parting
will bring it back directly, howeier old we may be. I can
quite . . . well imagine you kissing a kxig grey hair when
... (I) was away nursing a grandchikL . . - If only we
can be good Christians we must go on loving each ^/ther
more and more."

C. P. to E. A. P., 185a
" Oh ! how I long for Monday afternoon, when I »hall
come Aoffu, and find the house with the spirit in it that

• Tennyson Patmore, the second ion.

• For "The AngcL"

138 COVENTRY PATMORE

makes it home; ... In all you do you are like an angel in
Heaven, where, as Dante says, * everything is done zealously
and well.'"

"* Love and Money '^ is now the order of the day with
us. It reads capitally. Such real, unaflfected writing is not
common with the best modem writers. You ought really
to do something. We might then go down to posterity as
a * double star ; ' whereas now all your light will be swallowed
up in mine. *The Happy Wedding'* will really be far
more yours than mine, but that will never be known unless
you let the world see what you can do if you like."

" The pleasure which the presence of the great sea always
gives me was strangely modified and made into something
much like melancholy by the recollection that you were not
there."

" The great magnolia' at the top of High Street, which
was in flower when you were here, is without blossoms now,
and really to my heart it seems as if it were because you
are not here. I could kiss the steps of the shop where I
paid for your sand-shoes *' and felt so like a husband for
the first time. The people of the house here seem like my
dear friends because they have seen and spoken to you."

E. A. P. to C. P., 1850.

" Sometimes I almost wish that something would interfere
with our letting the house after alL . . . Nothing but the
recollection of your Poem makes me reasonable again. In-
deed . . . you ought to work very hard when your . . .
wife makes such a great sacrifice for the sake of enabling
you to do it You have almost reason to be jealous of
the Poem when you find I will give you up for it."

C. P. to E. A. P., 1855.

" I am delighted at your prudence and affection in offer-
ing to do, during this winter at least, with only one servant.

' " The title of a tale I persuaded her to write."— Note by C. P.
' The first idea'of a title for "The Angel in the House."
' This magnolia covers the whole front of the house at Hastings
where Patmore lived from 1875 to 1891.
* See "The Angel in the House," xii. i.

\

EMILY PATMORE 139

We Aa" have all the more pleasure in putting up vnth the
little inconveniences of this plan because w-e shall know
rtiart we are not comfelUd to adopt it."

• I tremble in mind when I think of the fortune which I
enjoy . . . The most noble and lovely of women for my
wife: diree of the prettiest children e\-erseen : health made
deli^tfbl by preceding years of languor, and. hard at hand,
woffkUy honour and prosperit>- ; and, almost above all, the
assured feeling of being called to do a work which, to him
who can do it, must necessarily be the greatest of delights
as well as the greatest of duties."

" From her at Brighton to me, 1856."
" I hope this week will do as much as last week did for
the Poem. Each step, now, seems to do so much more than
the same degree of ad\-ance did in the banning. When I
allow myself to think about the joy of its being finished
and published, I feel a whirl of joy, but somehow I have a
superstition against indulging in joyful anticipations of any
kind. The present is, upon the whole, so happy that it
seems wrong to dwell unth longing upon an>thing better/'

•• 1 have just found out what I feel like when you are
away ; like a curious shell-fish we found, with claws like a
lobster, but in a shell like a snail's. When we kept it, it
became very uneasy, and, at last, in desperation, crawled
quite out of its shell. Can you fancy how naked, cold,
homeless, and imperfect it must have felt, and how it must
have longed for the warm, safe shell again ? This is exactly
how I feel. I have crawled out of my shell and am longing
with all my might to be safe in it again. This is exactly
how I always know I shall feel, to my life's end, if you die
first I cannot tell you how exactly it expresses the feeling I
have when you are away — the weak, unsafe, unconcentrated
feeling. It is a very ugly simile (and would be more so if
you had seen the hideous, unnatural looking fish), but it is
so apt that I cannot help telling it to you."

" From me at Brighton to Her, 1856."
•' Sometimes ... 1 think that there is only one thing
which could make me love you much more than I do, and
that would be the smallpox. You would then depend for

I40 COVENTRY PATMORE

entire admiration a little on my kindness, whereas now your
claims are absolute. . . . *On a bientdt pris sa suffisance
d'une belle femme, on ne lasse point d'une bonne/ said a
Frenchman who deserved an English wife, and probably
had one."

" From me to Her at Hastings, March, '57."

"All that I have written in the * Angel' about love is
much below the intensity and delicacy of the plain reality."

" From her letters ... at Margate, very ill, supposed
to be dying, i860."

" Tenny ^ is just come. We have had a little religious
talk — only three minutes. I told him how near God seems
to me in the quiet nights, and I almost hear Him say He
will take care of me and help me in pain and sickness, and
that all who have loved God long felt this joy."

" I had a very happy and delightfully warm — not hot —
hour-and-a-half on the jetty where the waves dash. I had

fruit, thinking I should see R 's children. As they did

not come, I found plenty of little friends. I do so enjoy it.
I give a smile (never to a child with a lady, though some-
times, but not often, to nice-looking children), the smile is
returned : fruit is displayed, sweeter smiles ensue : the
fruit is stretched out, and the pretty creatures come and
take it, always looking for more, sometimes boldly, some-
times shyly. A poor family of mother, baby, and six children
were just below me, on the sands, and it was so delightful
throwing down and seeing all the six faces look up and nod
and smile at once ; I should say seven, for the mother
joined in just like the babies, and we kissed hands at
parting."

From C. P. to E. A. P., i860.

" I have been thinking to-day upon all your patient,
persistent goodness, your absolutely flawless life, and all
your amiable and innocent graces."

" How well we can see . . . that God is inexpressibly
tender, as well as powerful in what He does for us. Many

* Tennyson Patmore, their second son.

cf' - U.^ J

C'^

EMILY PATMORE 141

threats come before the stroke falls — as if He would have
us convinced that, if it does fall, there is no other way. Do
not forget to pray for me that there may be another way,
and that His Grace and the past and present fear may be
enough."

This is as much of the correspondence as I venture
to give. For the rest, the reader may accept my
assertion that scarcely ever can letters more ardent
in passionate devotion, expressed with such perfect
candour, delicacy, and charm, have passed between
husband and wife. They cover the whole period of
their engagement and marriage, presenting a record
of ever-increasing tenderness, while her letters abound
in revelations of feminine feeling from which the
poem (•* The Angel ") has obviously profited, and to
the best portions of which they are inferior only in
absence of poetic form.

V.

The following are extracts from Coventry Pat-
more s diary, written partly before, partly after, his
wife's death.

** Her strange beauty and extreme innocence of coun-
tenance and manner."

" At Mr. P.'s party Alfred Tennyson scarcely spoke to
any one but her, to the apparent envy and surprise of
certain great ladies, who evidently thought so splendid a
beauty with so milkmaid-like an absence of pretension was
contrary to the usages."

This was at Bryan Waller Procter's. We may
wonder how Patmore detected such sentiments on
the part of the "great ladies," who as a rule are
capable of concealing " envy " even when they feel it :
his pride in his wife and optimism about his personal
concerns would be likely to produce the impression.

The diary proceeds as follows :

142 COVENTRY PATMORE

" Her unalterable mildness and goodness under certain
extreme provocations."

" The perfect correspondence of her just and sweet nature
to her beauty of countenance, which expressed an amount
of softness and good-will that could not have been expressed
without her noble severity of feature."

" Her beauty of person and grace of manner, always most
affecting to the most highly and purely cultured persons."

" The matchless goodness and good sense, of which her
personal beauty seemed to be the natural blossom."

" The conversations with Mr. Aubrey De Vere and Dr.
Manning on the Roman Catholic religion, in which she
answered all their most subtle arguments, which were
wholly beyond my power to see through, so as to set my
mind at rest on this point"

" Emily read De Vere's Essays on the R C. R, and,
though shaken at first, answered everything in them to her
own satisfaction, which certainly would have been to mine,
but she was too weak to talk much and explain her solu-
tions of his difficulties. I always found her right when she
had strength to show me her reasons, and her right was of
a high, simple, and holy kind, which seemed to be on a
higher level than the arguments by which Dr. Manning and
De Vere endeavoured to bring us to the R C. R."

" Her kind and wise mind : her wifely love, which acutely
felt every variation of my irregular moods, yet never showed
any impatience: her honest heart, which instantly discerned
the right in every moral question : her lofty simplicity,
which made ordinary and mixed society a false and em-
barrassing position to her."

" Her great desire and successful endeavour to be useful
up to the last — children's dresses made, my things mended,
prudent measures taken for the future."

Patmore preserved a most pathetic memorial of
her careful forethought for her children. During
her last illness she kept by her a little memorandum
book in v^rhich she jotted down, as they occurred to

EMILY PATMORE 143

her, instructions for the management of the children
after her death, as to dress and other matters, giving
explanatory sketches.

*' Her sweet, natural, and unartistic afTection for flowers
and everything beautiful."

The derivatives of "artist" are used by Patmore,
here and elsewhere, in a special sense, implying a
heartless and merely aesthetic appreciation.^

" The harmony of her conscience and feeling.'*

*' Gem-like neatness and order of her house."

" Extraordinary power of turning a rough girl into a
polished servant in the course of a few months."

" Her greatly cffJectual charities on very small means."

"The exquisite womanly talent shown in her writings
for children and servants."

"The bountiful affection of her first welcome to my
mother, and the loyalty which always answered by warm
love to any merely formal claim for love."

This seems to confirm the impression, elsewhere
indicated, that the mother's manner was marked by
a certain cold stateliness. (Cf. p. 5).

** Her infallible judgment in morals and in the higher
kinds of taste, poetry, etc."

" Her heroic self-devotion to the children, through which
she died before her time."

•* Without seeing her face, anyone could see her goodness
and innocence by her shape and carriage."

" The quite incomparable sweetness of her voice, which,
in common talk, was sweeter than any song. It was the
very tone of innocence and love."

' Cf. a letter of his written at Coniston about William Ailing-
ham's poetry, p. 196.

144 COVENTRY PATMORE

" Her beauty of face and of figure was extraordinary ; yet
they attracted less attention than they otherwise would
lave done, because the impression the sight of her gave
was not * How beautiful ! ' but * How kind ! ' "

Compare the following passage from "Amelia" :

" And yet to look on her moved less the mind

To say * How beauteous ! ' than * How good and kind ! ' "

"Amelia," Patmore's favourite of all his poems,
though written nearly fifteen years after his wife
Emily's death,^ contains other unmistakable allusions
to her, both in the title and eminently in the following
lines :

" With great kind eyes, in whose brown shade
\y Bright Venus and her Baby played."

" The pleasure she took in the progress of * The Angel,'
and how the assurance of its importance and ultimate
success made her joyfully consent to a life of voluntary
poverty for years, involving distinctly twice letting our
house, and going into very poor but heavenly happy
lodgings."

" Her innocent heart, which until late in her last illness
made the dawn of every new day a delight, as with a child."

" Born February 29th, in token of her singularity and
rareness, as well as of her transparent candour. . . ."

"August 3rd, 1862.^ This morning (Sunday), as I was
walking round the garden with Emily and talking about Her,
Emily suddenly burst into tears and hid her head against
me, holding her arm and hand, which were away from me,
straight out, and saying, * Mama has got hold of my hand.'
I said, * Are you frightened ? ' She answered * No, but
somehow it makes me cry.' We walked on for some
minutes silent, Emily still crying and holding out her left

* In a letter to Mr. Buxton Forman, Patmore says : " To the
best of my recollection * Amelia' was written very early in the
year 1878."

^ A month after his wife's death. "Emily" is, of course, the
eldest daughter.

EMILY PATMORE 145

arm and hand as if it was in another's grasp. I said, * Is
Mama still with you ? ' She answered, ' Yes. She is point-
ing up and saying that I must not be unhappy, as I shall
be up there with her if I am good.' Afterwards Emily
told me that she asked her Mama why she did not go and
speak to me, and she said, 'She was not allow^ yet,
because I was stronger and did not require it, but that she
would come to me by-and-bye in dreams.' "

•* Emily tells me to-day (August 4th), in answer to my
questions, that her Mama was dressed in white : that she
seemed taller than before, and that she only saw the side
of her face because it was turned upwards all the time.
Emily is just nine years old, and is singularly careful of i
truth. Bertha (six-and-a-half years old) dreamt she saw
her mother carried up dead, and beautifully dressed, on a
blue and silver bier between two angels. . . . And, while
she was away at Mrs. Jackson's, at the time her mother
was just dead, though she did not know this, she had
nightly other dreams which, for her age, seem supernatural, l
and to have been actually visitations.

" * You have seen and therefore you believe : Blessed are
those who have not seen and who yet believe.' "

" • The fair at death are always fair.' (Barnes.) •*

Patmore was never, while I knew him, either
specially credulous of spiritual appearances or wont
to talk about them, though I am sure that he would
not have disbelieved in them on a priori grounds.
This record was undoubtedly written down at the
time, and expressed a genuine conviction. Patmore
often stated his belief that dreams might be of the
deepest spiritual import.

I proceed with extracts from the diary :

•* Her sweet, innocent tears at some of my over-righteous
resolutions."

** If you remember the superiority of her simple, natural
judgment over that of the cleverest and best-read men, you
will have no fear of getting beyond her in any course of
culture."

L L

V

^

146 COVENTRY PATMORE

The preceding passage may be compared with '* In
Memoriam," xl. and xli., where however obstacles to
reunion are considered on a somewhat different line
of thought. /

" Remember, above all, the 5410 davs she was my wife,
and on each one of which, though nothing happened to be
remembered, she did her duty to me, her children, her
neighbours, and to God, with a lovely, unnoticeable even-
ness and completeness."

"Aug. 23rd, 1862. Last night I dreamt that she was
dying : awoke with unspeakable relief to find that it was a
dream ; but, a moment after, to remember she was dead."

The above is obviously the germ of the Ode " The
Azalea."

"Her extrenu economy in her own personal expenses,
and her encouragement of, and invitation to, extravagance
in mine."

" Her foresight of probable fatal results of over-work, and
deliberate conclusion that it was right to go on. (I had
not then learned how well she weighed her words.) "

" When in danger from sloth, remember how she did all
things zealously and well under whatever temptation to do
otherwise."

The following entry associates his wife with the
idea which is the keynote of his subsequent writings :

" The relation of the soul to Christ cts his betrothed wife
is the key to the feeling with which prayer and love and
honour should be offered to Him. In this relation is a
mine of undiscovered joy and power. She showed me
what that relationship involves of heavenly submission and
spotless, passionate loyalty."

There are other entries in the same diary which
distinctly foreshadow certain Odes, besides those
specially mentioned above. These passages how-
ever are of too pathetic or of too intimate a character

EMILY PATMORE 147

to be transcribed here. Thoughts and feelings may
be such as can rightly be presented in verse alone, and
Patmore seems to me, in some at least of his Odes,
to have reached the extreme limit in the expression
of feelings which, divested of poetic form, are almost
intolerable in their poignancy.

The following memorandum was made by Patmore
one year after his wife's death :

'* To these reasons for gratitude add : that, if the life of
love is service, I am now called upon to do more for her
than ever, by being both Mother and Father to her six
little ones, my love and patience towards whom have been
immeasurably increased since her departure."

At about the same time he wrote the following
letter :

" Hastings,

"June 13, '63.
"My dear Garnett,

" I suppose your honeymoon has commenced. At
least it is about to commence. You did not tell me the
day. I too am enjoying a honeymoon of memory and
hope which it is my prayer that sixteen years' probation
may entitle you also to enjoy — without the drawback 1
suffer. I am in the same house and in the same rooms to
which I brought my bride in 1847, sind for your comfort as
a true-hearted young brid^^room I can without a shadow
of exaggeration say that my first nuptial joy was a poor
thing compared with the infinite satisfaction I can now feel
in the assurance which time has brought, that my relation
to Her is as eternal as it is happy.

" With best wishes,

" Ever truly yours,

"Coventry Patmore."

To the very end of his life, his change of creed
notwithstanding, Patmore regarded his wife Emily as
a saint. He kept the anniversary of her death as a /
day of seclusion, self-examination, and prayer. When \/
in the early days of their conversion one of the

148 COVENTRY PATMORE

^^^1 children hesitated over prayers to Our Lady, he

^^^1 said, ** Pray to your mothefp if you like that better/'

^^^H He was always, no doubt mainly on her account,

^^^H inexpressibly indignant at any bigoted limitation of

^^^H future happiness to those of his new Communion.

^^^V He too used often to tell his friends, with evident

^M^ pride, that during her long illness, in spite of

^■i A slender means, his wife had been in all substantial

1^^^ respects '* as much cared for as any Duchess *' could

pov have been. ~~

VL

Emily Augusta Patmore left many little poems in
manuscripti of which I give the following specimen :

"Rich and Poor.

** Cold the rain is^ cold the air»
Long and weary is the way :
Hard I work for scanty fare,
Coming, going every day ;
Yet the very load I bear
Turns my working into play<

" Johnny, what I feel for thee
Miser never felt for gold.
Put thy face up close to me,
Let me keep thee from the cold^
Sweet, I love thee tenderly :
O, how much a heart can hold I

" Who shall say that I am poor ?
Here I hold a priceless gem.
Mine, and yet in value more
Than a monarch's diadem.
If crowns were offered by the score
In change for thee, I'd laugh at them.

" I have seen a queen arrayed
All in purple and in gold :

^

/

\

ly

EMILY PATMORE 149

Lords at every word she said
Bent their necks so proud and bold ;
Yet I knew a g^ve was made
Where her little ones lay cold.

" Sure was I that queen would give
All her palace could contain
Might those pretty babies breathe^
Could she see them smile again.
Ah, my Johnny, while you live,
I am richer of the twain.

" Let the miser keep his money,
Give the queen what wealth can buy.
Days as sweet and smooth as honey,
Years of pomp and luxury.
While I keep my little Johnny, ^^^^ T
Who so rich and proud as I ? "

The following are Browning's verses alluded to
in the note to p. 118:

"Written on Emily in her Album, from //
which it is torn."

" If one could have that little head of hers fW^'^ /

Painted upon a background of pale gold ^

Such as the Tuscan's early art prefers !

No shade encroaching on the matchless mould

Of those two lips, that should be opening soft

In the pure profile — not as when she laughs,

For that spoils all — but rather as aloft

Some hyacinth she loves so leaned its staffs

Burthen of honey-coloured studs to kiss

Or capture 'twixt the lips, apart for this.

Then her lithe neck, three fingers might surround.

How it should waver on the pale gold ground

Up to the fruit-shaped perfect chin it lifts !

" I know Correggio loves to mass in rifts
Of Heaven his angel-faces, orb on orb

ISO COVENTRY PATMORE

Breaking its outline burning shades absorb ;
But these are only mustered, I should think,
Waiting to see some wonder momently
Grow out, stand full, fade off against die sky
(That 's the pale ground you see the sweet face by),
All Heaven meanwhile condensed into one eye^
Which fears to lose a wonder should it wink.

" Robert Browning.
"London, Oct ii, '52.'*

These verses, slightly altered, appeared twelve
years later in " Dramatis Personae " as " A Face."

Emily Honoria Patmore, the eldest daughter, in
her sixteenth year, wrote the following sketch of her
mother for the present Mrs. Patmore.

" E. P.

« Bom 1824. Died 1862.

"Aged 38.

" She was the daughter of a clergyman named Andrews.
She had two or three brothers and several sisters. When
a baby (she told me) they used to remark her large eyes»
and sing to her, ' No mouth, no nose, no hands, no ears, all
eyes ' : you know how people clap their hands at babies at
endings like * all eyes.' She was very fond of her youngest
sister, Geoi^e, but one of her elder sisters used to tyrannize
over her. When a girl, I suppose about 15 or 14, she went
to live with an uncle. Her aunt was unkind to her (I
think), and she told me she was always too young for older
people's enjoyments, and too old for those of the children.
I foi^ot to say that her mother died of consumption. She
once told me, as a great sin, that this mother was ill and
had some white jelly to eat, of which sAe actually took a
little : soon after her mother asked her to bring tie plate,
saying, * I have some nice jelly of which I will give you
some.' * Just think,' said she to me, * how sorry I was as I
handed down the plate.* Everyone, when she was a child,
remarked her gentleness. At my age, or very little older,
she acted as housekeeper, and saw after everything in the
house. I do not know her age at her marriage : I think 22.
Papa and she were so happy for some time that it could
not last long, and when I was very little the consumption

EMILY PATMORE 151

began. I think she had it for 5 years before she died. I
remember very little of Kentish-town, where I first remember
living. We went to Finchley. Here everything seemed
perfect at first Here I remember the only words that
struck me as impatient that she ever spoke. And that
was only when I said, very rudely, that ' I was sure she
could not hook her own frock.' I forget the exact words
of her answer, something like * Of course I can.' She went
to Tunbridge Wells or Margate for her health. When she
was going, I cried, and, when she kissed my face, said, * But
the kisses will be washed off when I wa^ my face.' So
she put them inside my mouth. At Finchley I was very
naughty. Once Papa called me into a room, and there she
was sitting and crying : he said, * Take your handkerchief
away, dear, and let Emily see you are crying.' So I saw
she was crying because I was so naughty. At last she was
so ill that she went away, and I and Bertha went to school.
G. and H. were out at nurse. T. and M. at schools.* After
one quarter we came away and lived, in London in winter ;
at Elm Cottage, Hampstead, in summer. Now B. and I
were always with Papa and her: just imagine! What I
should think of it now ! I must pass over some time. We»
as I said, went to Hampstead in the summer. She grew
worse, and after my ninth birthday, 2nd of June, she was
very ill. One evening I had said good-night and came
back to fetch a book. She was sitting in that folding cane
arm-chair which is in the entrance, with one hand on its
arm, and her head leaned back, as if very weak. I sat up
in bed to read my book, and came to the mother in it
dying. It seemed to strike me very much : soon after, I
heard all the bells in the house ringing, everyone running
about. Papa calling my brother, and Mama calling for ' the
children.' I was very much frightened, but stayed in bed.
The next day we heard that she was very ill : we went to
Mrs. Jackson's for a week (B. and I) : when we came back,
the funeral was over. Papa came for us in a cab. I asked
how she was, and he said, ' Better than she has ever been '
(I was so glad for a moment), but he added, * for she is in
heaven.' I was very — I don't know what ; I felt very good,
but lonely, I leaned my head on Papa, but did not cry.

' G. is Gertrude, H^ Henry, T., Tennyson, M., Milnes.

152 COVENTRY PATMORE

But I will tell you all I know of her death. She was in-
sensible for three days, and died on Saturday at midnight,
like our Lord being three days in the grave and rising at
that time. The insensibility b^an at the time He was
buried. Bertiha, at Mrs. Jackson's, and only knowing she
was ill, dreamt that she was suddenly quite well, which
must mean that she went straight to Heaven. Just before
her death, we used to feed the sparrows a g^eat deal, and at
last they used to eat off her very pillows. She was rather
tall, not stout, but not sylph-like :

How changed, in shape no slender Grace,
But Venus, milder than the dove :

had a perpetual smile, Mike moonbeams on a wavering
mere,* and yet was alwa)rs grave. Her eyes were * clear
lakes of true hazel colour.' Very indulgent to us, yet very
particular, especially about obedience and reverence to
holy things. I remember once B. and I were always sing-
ing and saying a hymn, * Jesus tender,* it began, and she
asked us to call it some other name. I am sure she loved
our Lord as much as any one does, and others more than
most people, and * Love is the fulfilment of the law.' Her
manners were calm and gentle. She was very clever, and
knew Latin and, I think, Greek ; but everyone forgot this in
her womanly character. She was a perfect workwoman : I
remember her making shirts for Papa in the bed in which
she died. Papa paints her character : I need not try. But
do not imagine that she is the very same as H. C* Her
family were not the same, and the circumstances of the
whole book. I hope you will not be disappointed and only
care for imaginary H. C. Her grave is in Hendon (near
Finchley) Cemetery. If you ever go there, look for it: it is
a cross like that on the cover of this book, with E. P. and
the date of her death, a lily, a crown with a star on each
point, and * Come, Lord Jesus." The letters are in colours,
the lily and crown in pure white. She always tried to
make me very honourable and truthful, very fond of my
country (I have been ever since), and very fond of the

^ Honoria Churchill, the heroine of " The Angel.*'

' This monument was replaced many years later (about 1882)

by another bearing the inscription " Emily, wife of Coventry Pat

more " (see illustration).

EMILY PATMORE 153

poor. I am sure her prayers have obtained for us to come
into the Churdi, and have had a great influence on my life:
if yoQ knew all^ yoa would agree with me. She wrote in
a letter, a short time before h&r death : ' May my death be
life to others.' She died on the 5th July. I always con-
sider * All Saints ' as her feast, as it is meant for unknown
saints. I will draw her figure as well as I can remember it^
I daresay that is not at all like it The reason why I think
crinolines pretty is that she wore them or something stiff.

^ Her favourite flowers were Canterbury bells, and colour
violet I cannot tell you what I did not ask Papa for, but
I can that I am sure she is safe, if not in Heaven, as I
tJkimJk. I will leave the rest for things I do not remember
now. Bertha had several beautiful dreams about her at the
time of her death. One is full of symbols. You see B. was
very young, and would never have dreamt them naturally.
That of which I spoke is as follows :

** * Angels brought Mama in on a bier covered with blue
velvet The angels were dressed in white. . . . Mama in
V9hitc also. . . .

•* The blue velvet, perhaps, means the rest of eternity.
Eternity always seems blue to me. The white, of course,
purity.

It may be noted that Emily makes no mention
of her mother's appearance to her recorded by her
fiither, though she speaks of her sister s dreams.
Mrs. Patmore, who knew Emily with special inti-
macy, feels sure that she would have considered the
vision too sacred a memory to mention even to her.

VII.

The following letters written by Emily Patmore
illustrate various points in her character.

"Thursday, 24.(1853?)

..." Mrs. called here to ask Coventry to sign a paper,

stating that Mr. was honest, industrious and j^^ /

She says he has become a teetotaller, and had at that time

A sketch is given in MS.

154

COVENTRY PATMORE

•^

not tasted liquor for 6 weeks< Coventry said he could not
possibly say he kneur him to be sober, and that a wife's
authority, supposing a 6 weeks' reformation to be a proof of
a real alteration, was not sufficient to enable him to pledge
his word for the said reform. , . .

'' She would not at all see this, and seemed quite unable
to understand a conscientious scruple in such a matter, and
though very civil, went away evidently deeply offended.
We have heard nothing of her since, I shall call and find
out if she is going. ... I dare say she has found some
good-natured, easy-con scienced person who has put his
name to the paper, so putting Government to the expense of
sending out a drunkard, when hundreds of honest, starving
men are longing to go, * , .

"Coventry's new book of poetry* is just come out . . .
There is a long poem called * Honoria ' addressed to me.
There is also a lady named * Blanche ' who is taken from
R — , not in mind but in person merely. It is exactly like
hen * , .

" 8 Grovcp

** Kentish Town."

" 3, Mount Vernon, Hampstead,
"Jany. g, 1855.

" Dear Mr. Allingham,

" I forgott when I wrote to you last, to remark upon
one of your pencil criticisms on Coventry's poems.^ You
say, apropos of one of the * sentences/ * Beauty is flesh and
blood, sir/ etc. — * If I were a bishop, I would call you to
account, for thus ranking natural with revealed religion,' or
some such words.

" This does not mean that one may read as much in the
* flesh and blood ' as in the * rags and printer's ink,' but
simply to compare the mode of profiting by the one, to the
mode of profiting by the other.

"The poet admires not the flesh and blood, but the
natural religion readable therein. So he values not the
ra^s and ink, but the revelation made through their
medium.

'* It is a mere comparison of small with great, no more
intended to g^ve equal value to things compared than a

' "Tamerton Church Tower."

» "The Betrothal" was published in 1854.

J

^

EMILY PATMORE 155

thousand other poetical comparisons— of ladies' cheeks to
roses, snow to purity, smiles to sunshine, etc., etc Do you
not allow this to be the effect of it ? At any rate it was so
intended.

" I have read the remainder of your review in * The
Critic ' with great pleasure, excepting one paragraph, that
which relates to Mr. Patmore Sen^ I think you are un-
necessarily severe upon him : would it not have been
sufficient to point out the mistake without giving an im-
plied censure to the spirit of his writings ?

** I have saved a copy of the review for Coventry to read
at the expiration of his vow* (in April), but have cut out
from it a few lines of this paragraph, so that he will never
see what has appeared to me severe upon his father, nor
will he notice the join in the paper, as the whole review is
in pieces sewn together.

" Yours most sincerely,

"Emily A. Patmore."

"8 Grove, Kentish Town, 1856.

"Dear Mr. Allingham,

" I have had staying with me a young lady who has
read and wept over your * Music-Master ' many times, and
who copied out the * Nursery song,' * Evey,* * The Dream,'
and many of your small poems, and borrowed the volume
many times to read it to other friends whom she visited
during her stay here. I have a great wish to give her a
copy to keep, but find, whenever I seriously intend to do so,
other calls of money start up, and nip my intention in the
bud. I write therefore to ask you — if you have the com-
mand of your own books — whether you will enable me to
be generous at your expense, and send me permission to
get a copy to present to your fair admirer, to whom I will,
if possible, introduce you one day, in return.

" Coventry ... is now recruiting from temporary weak-
ness at Brighton. I hope the reaction will show itself in
the form of the three idylls wanted to complete * The
Espousals.' Do you know that ' The Betrothal ' has been
printed in America ? Miss Howell sends me a whole batch
of review praise, from American papers.

"Mr. Woolner has just completed a wonderfully good

' The vow, no doubt, was to read no notices of his poem.

156 COVENTRY PATMORE

bust of Tennyson, rather over life size. It will appear in
marble, next year, at the Royal Academy. I never saw a
bust which seems to me so good. His statuette of * Love,*
in marble, is to be exhibited this year. Of course you
know of Holman llunt's return. Millais has been in town,
but we did not see him : he has several pictures for the
Academy.

*^ I suppose you know I have a fourth child and second
daughter. She is twelve weeks old, her name is Bertha
Georgiana. Gumey is well, but like yourself still a miser-
able bachelor. I believe both the Rossettis are engaged, but,
as I did not hear it from themselves and the report may be
false, I will not mention the names of the ladies whom my
informant assigned to each.

** Tennyson is far advanced in another volume, — 'King
Arthur,* I believe — which he has wisely resolved on doing in
a series of idylls, like the ' Morte d'Arthur * of his printed
volume. I forget who told me this, and not certain of its
accuracy, but some one must have said it, or it would not
have entered my head. . . .

" Yours very sincerely,

"E. A. Patmore."

" Farringford,

"Freshwater.

, " Mrs. Tennyson's two boys are sweet children, one four
and a half, the other two years younger, Hallam and Lionel.
Mr. Tennyson has read me two magnificent new poems on
subjects from the times of Prince Arthur. They are really
magnificent. I believe they will be out in the spring.

" Sir John and Lady Simeon are very amiable and clever
people, who are great admirers of Coventry's * Angel in the
House.' The invitation is of long standing, and as they
have a lovely house and grounds, etc., I look forward to
the visit with great pleasure. . . .

"Wednesday, '57."

To Miss Eliza Robinson.

** Highwood Cottage,

"Thurs. Ap. 9, 1858.

"... The news of Philip is highly gratifying, far more
so than the news of gold found and manners — and what
generally goes with manners in such a case, self-respect

EMILY PATMORE 157

and even principles — lost. Coarse manners are no discredit
to one bom among them ; but one bom and bred in refine-
ment can never lose it without intemal damage equal to
external. Manners and mind, in such a case, generally
keep pace ; and in a case like Philip's, the retention of gentle
manners proves much good feeling and principle. I am
delighted to know what must please you so much. . . ."

To Mrs. Jackson. [1862].

*' He has asked me to explain to you more fully about
the difficulty of leaving Milnes. We are extremely anxious
that he should pass in March. We shall have no peace of
mind till the point is settled, and all Coventry's work too
will stand still. You will see then how desirable it is to
save three months of this anxiety and toil — besides, if
Milnes fails in March there will be a second expensive and
time-consuming joumey to Portsmouth — besides other
additional expenses and troubles that I need not describe.
As there are only about twenty-eight working days before
the March examination, and Coventry teaches Milnes three
hours every evening, you will see that an evening missed
would be a serious loss ; indeed Coventry looks upon it as a
distinct duty to give himself entirely to this work for the
next month. Had it not been for this Coventry would
have been so glad to meet Mr. and Mrs. Vaughan.* I hope
you will g^ve him the opportunity another time.

'' I have had it much on my mind to make you recall
your expressions of displeasure about Lady Monteagle's
objections to ' The Garland.' I had particularly asked her
to tell me any blame she should hear, as it is so difficult to
know what is really said of one's husband's work. She
most kindly made notes of all, whether or not she sym-
pathized with the objection. I believe Mrs. H. Taylor
agreed to all, but Lady Monteagle did not. She has been
so kind to me that (like Frederick Graham) I must say

' —do not write her name

With the least word or hint of blame.' '

' Mr. Vaughan is Henry Halford Vaughan, sometime Professor
of Modem History in the University of Oxford He had married
Mn. Jackson's eldest daughter. There are other allusions to him
in these volumes.

• "Victories of Love," VH.

158 COVENTRY PATMORE

I can only describe her kindness by comparing it to yours :
yet you know every real feeling shows itself in an original
form ; and each of you are kind in your own way.

"You know I am not so well as I was. Dr. Kidd
promises to make me right again, but I am a little depressed
at finding an increase of those symptoms which were so
nearly fatal to me once. Do not think me ungrateful,
after having had so many blessings, to complain at the first
suspicion of evil ; if I were certain that real illness was
coming I believe I could cheerfully submit, but the
uncertainty is depressing : there are so many that I love,
and for whom, even now, I can do much. I did not mean
to say all this, but in writing to you, my dear friend, I
cannot help speaking of what is in my heart"

To Miss Eliza Robinson.

" 14, Percy St,

" March 7, '62.

"... Mr. Patmore is now at Portsmouth with Milnes,
who is undergoing his examination for the Navy. Hiey
will stay till next Wednesday, knowing nothing whatever
of the result till that day. You may ims^ne my anxiety;
for, though he has another chance in June, it is a question
of some import to us, whether there is to be another
Portsmouth journey, with its travelling and hotel expenses,
and in the meantime three months more of cramming
tutors* pockets that they may cram Mill/s head : besides,
worst of all, it is three months more of anxiety and
suspense. I suppose in Wednesday's or Thursday's
* Times ' the names of those who passed will be announced.

I am very poorly to-day. ... I am suffering from several
weakening attacks incident to my complaint I daresay
dear little Sarah went through all these things. I often
think of her. Her sweet face is one I long to recognize in
heaven. Georgiana is coming to-morrow to spend the day
with me. We are the same inseparables as ever. Love to
your dear Mama and all.

" Your aff. friend,

"Emily Patmore."

MONTMENT IN HHNDuN CHURCHYARD.

To Ucc I". \^

CHAPTER XI

"THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE "

TH E preceding chapter will have shown the
reader in what manner and to what extent
Patmore had been aided by his marriage
with Emily Augusta Andrews in gaining insight
into the subject of the poem which had occupied his
thought and been the motive of his studies since he
had been little more than a boy. It will no less
have given evidence of the seriousness with which
he regarded his work, and of the sacrifices which he
and his wife were prepared to make in its interests.
Mr. Aubrey de Vere has recorded for me a conver-
sation he had with Patmore at the time when the
poet was on the point of realizing his long-standing
ambition. He writes :

" The reality of Patmore's poetical gift was evinced by
the circumstance, inter alia^ that it came and went wholly
at its own will — not at the poet's. He called on me one day
in a state of unusual excitement and animation. Its cause
he did not care to conceal. There was, he assured me, one
particular theme for Poetry, the more serious importance of
which had been singularly missed by most poets of all
countries, frequently as they had taken its name in vain.
That theme was Love ; not a mere caprice of fancy, or Love
as, at best, a mere imaginative Passion — but Love in the
deeper and softer sense of the word. The Syren woman
had been often sung by the Pagan Poets of old time, and
the Fairy woman, by the Troubadours of the Middle Ages.
But that Love in which, as he affirmed, all the Loves centre,
and that Woman who is the rightful sustainer of them all,
the Inspiration of Youth, and the Consolation of Age, that

i6o COVENTRY PATMORE

Love and that Woman, he asserted, had seldom been sung
sincerely and eflectually ! He had himself long since
selected that theme as the chief one of his poetry, but, often
as he had made the attempt, it had never succc^ed in his
judgment But a double change had come to him.

"The Poet had lately undergone a severe and painful
malady ^ and for him the Daughters of Melody had been
brought low — as he had feared, for ever. But his health
had returned, and the Spring flowers had had their resur-
rection. He had made one attempt more, and this time a
successful one . . . He had written with a facility he had
never known before ; and his poem was already nearly
finished. In a few weeks more * The Angel in the House '
appeared."

It is evident that ** The Angel in the House"
means here the first instalment of the poem, " The
Betrothal." Patmore has left a memorandum of the
hopelessness he previously felt, and of the speed
with which he wrote when the impulse came. When
preparing to write the " Child's Purchase," his great
ode on the Blessed Virgin Mary, he says :

'' My comfort is that an apparently insuperable difficulty
ahead is the best excitement of the intellect that can be —
as I know by experience, for I felt the same hopeful help-
lessness when I was preparing to write the * Angel.' " *

And again he writes :

" The first Book of the Angel in the House took only six
weeks in the writing, though I had thought of little else for
several years before."

Though with regard to some few points of in-
terest in connection with the poem there is a defi-
ciency of direct evidence, I may endeavour to give
some idea of Patmore*s motives for fashioning it as he
has done, and to ascertain to what extent it is auto-

* Patmore told Dr. Gamett that this illness had been actually
fruitful of poetic impulse.

* Quoted with context, pp. 255-256.

"THE ANGEL" i6i

biographical — as containing distinctly personal traits
of uie poet.

As regards metre, Patmore used to say that he / l^.
had adopted the rhymed octosyllabic quatrain as ' ^Ui

being a gay and jocund measure, eminently adapted
to a story of successful love and happy marriage. In
this he probably judged rightly, though, as I have
already said, he had never shown any disposition to-
wards intricate or elaborate metrical forms. He was
in all probability aware that in writing in this simple
metre he might be laying himself open to ridicule and
parody, and there is evidence that he adopted it with
full^dfiUb eratiqn . I remember, in quite tfie^ early
years of our friendship, telling him that the simplicity
and ease of the verse seemed to me to have detracted
somewhat from the popular estimation of the poem,
by leading many to take it less seriously ; and that he
replied, inverting a well-known saying of Byron's,
that "easy readine was often d — d hard writing."
And later, when, after the appearance of the " Odes,"
critics were wont to praise them at the expense of
the "Angel," he showed himself jealous for the
earlier poem, and attributed the preference to the
fashion which then demanded more complex metre.

About 1890 he writes :

"*The Athenarum,' (Dec. 1890), still looks. upon the
poetry of the * Angel in the House ' and the * Victories of
Love ' as * garrulous ' and * prattling.' That comes of my ^./j

•vehicle,' a modest and unpretentious metre. Were Bismarck

to take Mr. or Mr. a drive in a tax-cart, they

would never guess, if they were not told, that the Prince
was anything better than a grocer. Though I travel the
same ground and at the same level, I have immensely
gained in reputation with these ninnies by mounting a
* mail-phaeton.' I have even had some thoughts of re- *

writing the * Angel ' for them, in the metre of the * Unknown
Eros.' "

■'}

i62 COVENTRY PATMORE

The scheme too of the poem seems to have
been no less carefully adapted to Patmore's purpose.
It is divided into sections, in each of which the nar-
rative is preceded by " Preludes." These deal
with the more abstract problems of love, and bear a
recognisable though subtle and not too obvious re-
lation to the action. This method gives the poet
scope for indulging his tendency to more ideal
thought, without compromising die simplicity and
j / terseness of the actual narrative. There is nothing
^ to be found among Patmore's memoranda or recorded
conversations which throws light upon his motive
for adopting this scheme. There is no evidence
that he had intentionally followed classical precedent,
though his method bears a distinct resemblance to
that of the Greek tragedians, in whose work the
Chorus fulfils a somewhat similar function to that of
the " Preludes." It seems to me probable that Pat-
more's scheme was formed independently, and arose
spontaneously to meet the exigencies of his design.

* / It has often been said that Patmore's poetry is
exclusively subjective. This criticism is true in a
strictly limited sense. He has, as was almost in-
evitable, worked from his own feelings and experi-
ence : incidents which actually occurred to him are
introduced, and the hero is not infrequently made
the mouthpiece of Patmore's own opinions. Still,
not only is there a general change of circumstance,
but I can find no single passage in the earlier instal-
ments of the " Angel " which seems to me to realize
Patmore as an individual, or to give anything like
distinct portraiture of him. The intention to avoid
" personality " applied to the hero equally with the
heroine of the poem : Patmore and his wife were
never meant to correspond to ** Felix " and " Hon-
oria " as individuals ; but in the case of the hero the

"THE ANGEL" 163

identification is even more completely avoided. Pat-
more was neither consciously nor unconsciously the
subject of his own poem.

It is curious that in the later portions, ** Faithful
for Ever" and the " Victories of Love," "Frederick,"
who figures as the unsuccessful suitor, and whose
experiences are therefore so different from those of
Patmore and of Vaughan, is so described in certain
passages as vividly to recall the poet's own person-
ality. The following, for example, is eminently
characteristic of Patmore's attitude in controversy :
possibly it may be founded on one of his colloquies
with his wife before they had reached common
ground in religious matters ; though Emily Patmore
would not have shown such deficiency in humour as
•' Jane " does. Jane quotes St. Paul's authority for

" A little worldliness in life.

He smiled and said that he knew all ^ /

Such things as that without St. Paul !

And once he said, when I with pain

Had got him just to read Romaine,

' Men's creeds should not their hopes condemn.

Who wait for heaven to come to them

Are little like to go to heaven

If logic's not the devil's leaven ! '

I cried at such a wicked joke,

And he, surprised, went out to smoke."

Other passages in " Faithful for Ever," which seem
to me to convey similar portraiture are these —

" When he stands. \f

So stem and tall, before the fire,"

or when Jane has, to please Frederick,

" Bought
A gay new bonnet, gown and shawl,"

(no doubt much too " gay "),

/

i64 COVENTRY PATMORE

" Frederick was not pleased at all ;
- For though he smiled and said ' How smart ! '
I feel, you know, what's in his heart"

/I think too that the description of Frederick's
attitude after the loss of his wife, described in the
"Victories of Love," is scarcely less characteristic
of Patmore.

These touches of self-portraiture were no doubt
introduced unconsciously. If it be supposed that
Patmore was in any degree aware of the resemblance,
the following conjecture may be hazarded. In the
earlier poem, in which the experiences of the hero
were essentially his own, he was especially on his
guard to exclude "personality." In the later the
motive was less strong, and sdf-portraiture crept in,
though it was no part of his original desig^n.

For some of the subordinate characters in the
poem, those who knew Patmore and his circle at the
time when it was written fancy they find originals,
mainly among his wife's relations. In " the Dean "
there may survive some traits of Dr. Andrews, Emily
Patmore's father, whom Patmore never saw, and
who must be sketched, if sketched at all, from his
daughter's reminiscences. " Mary " has been thought
by some to resemble Georgiana, Emily's youngest
sister, and other characters to convey traces of por-
traiture. But such recognitions vary considerably,
and I cannot find that Patmore gave to any his own
authority. It seems therefore useless to seek for
any biographical material in identifications which are
at best conjectural, and safer to conclude that Pat-
more's intention was to keep clear of " personality "
in the subordinate, as well as in the principal char-
acters.

The •* Betrothal " was read before publication by
Tennyson and Aubrey de Vere. The latter writes :

"THE ANGEL" 165

" When the ' Angel in the House ' was in the printer's
hands, a portion of it was sent to me, previous to publica-
tion» while I was on a visit to Alfred Tennyson and his
wife in the Isle of Wight We read it sitting on a cliff
close to the sea, with their eldest child, then about two or
three years old, playing near us ; and I had the satisfaction
of writing word to Patmore that we had greatly enjoyed
that reading."

Tennyson's criticism had been invited, as is shown
by the following letter :

•* Farringford,

"October 30, 1854.
••My dear Patmore,

" Many thanks for your volumes. I still hold that
you have written a poem which has a fair chance of im-
mortality; tho' I have praised (Landor-like) so many poems
that perhaps my praise may not be thought much of: but
such as it is, accept it, for it is quite sincere. There are
passages want smoothing here and there ; such as :

' Her power makes not defeats but pacts,'

a line that seems to me hammered up out of old nail-heads, y/^
•* Others want correcting on another score as

* I slid
My curtain,' *

which is not English. You mean I made my curtain slide
and that (even so exprest) would not be good. There is w^
nothing for it but

' I drew my curtain.'

" Little objections of this calibre, I could make ; but, as
for the whole, I admire it exceedingly, and trust that it
will do our age good, and not ours only. The women
ought to subscribe for a statue for you.

" Ever yours,
"A. Tennyson."

I Patmore altered this sentence to " My curtain slid," making
the construction - absolute. There is however authority for the
use of '* slide " as a transitive verb : cf. Donne, " Slide we in here
a note by the way," and such phrases as " he slid his hand into
mine."

i66 COVENTRY PATMORE

Patmore appears to have been nervous about the
publication of his poem. His father had but re-
cently issued "My Friends and Acquaintance/'
which, as I have related, was very unfavourably re-
ceived by the critics. This, Coventry Patmore
thought, might cause prejudice against his book, and
he feared that he might be identified with the author
of the work above named. He writes to Monckton
Milnes :

"*The Times* unintentionally did me a great injury.
Its onslaught, headed 'Patmore's Friends and Acquaint-
ances' was by the Public universally supposed to mean
me ; for my father had written nothing for a quarter of a
century and I was the only Patmore known to them by
name." *

He had however, if he published anonymously or
under a pseudonym, to account for the inclusion in
the forthcoming volume of certain poems printed in
" Tamerton Church Tower" which had been pub-
lished under his own name. D. G. Rossetti writes,
November, 1854 :

" I have r6ad Patmore's poem which he sent to me, and
about which I might say a good deal of all kinds, if I felt
up to it to-night ; but I don't. He was going to publish
(and had actually printed the title) with the pseudonym of
C. K. Dighton ; but was induced at the last moment to
cancel the title, as well as a marvellous note at the end,
accounting for some part of the poem being taken out of
his former book by some story of a butterman and a piece
of waste paper, or something of that sort ! (I see that my
description is as lucid as the note.) "

What this note was I have been quite unable to
ascertain. No other record of it seems to be in
existence. Finally Patmore determined to publish
anonymously, though the authorship must have been
a rather open secret.

* This is not strictly correct, but it is true that P. G. Patmore's
later work had been for the most part anonyTnous.

I r^

"THE ANGEL" 167

The reception of this first instalment of the poem
by Patmore's literary friends was most cordial. His
wife, writing to Mrs. Gemmer/ a life-long friend of
Patmore's, and herself a poetess, says :

" I am commissioned by Coventry to send you a copy of
his new poem, of which he begs your acceptance. He had
told me to send it, curiously enough, the very day I got
your letter, in which you * hope you may come across it* c^^ (
You must forgive my vanity if I tell you a few of the great ,
things that have been said about it. W. S. Landor writes rp^ C r
a letter full of somewhat senile ecstasy^ which I will..not-(/ La^ . ,
quote. Carlyle calls on Covenlfy To quit the UeTd'of fiction f^ y ; /
and bring his powers to bear upon the world of fact, which, f^
for the want of the like of him, is what it is, — this, I mean, ^ ^

a propos of power displayed in this book. Ruskin writes . ^ . .■ ' ,
* 1 cannot tell you how much I like your book. I had no
idea you had this high kind of power. The book will be, • — "

or at least ought to be, one of the most popular in the
English language, and blessedly popular, doing good wher-
ever it goes.'

" Tennyson writes : * You have begun an immortal poem,
and if I am no false prophet, it will not be long in winning
its way into the hearts of the people.'

'* I quote from memory, but I am not far wrong. A
friend of Tennyson's, Aubrey de Vere, himself a poet,
writes in the same tone, and adds, * Alfred said to me,' (he
was with Tennyson when he received the book) * that your / /
poem, when finished, will add one to the very small number
of great poems which the world has had.' '

" Do not laugh at my boasting. I have not copied out
these same things for any one before, but somehow I feel as
if you would sym(>athize with me in the pleasure they have
caused me."

Patmore, in one of his autobiographical memo-
randa, records Robert Browning's anticipation of the
poem's success. He writes :

" When the * Angel in the House ' first came out. Browning
said of it, * I do not say that it will be now, or soon ; but,

* Known to the reading public as ** Gerda Fay.*'

1

y

i68 COVENTRY PATMORE

some time or other, this will be the most popular poem that
was ever written.^

9 »

Carlyle's and Ruskin's letters to which Mrs.
Patmore alludes are given, among other letters to
Patmore, in vol. ii. Ruskin indeed, who had long
been on friendly terms with Patmore, became froni
this time a faithful admirer and eager advocate of his
work, both privately and in print In the appendix
to " Elements of Drawing," he writes, " Coventry
Patmore, whose 'Angel in the House* is a most
finished piece of writing, and the sweetest analysis
we possess of quiet modern domestic feeling." Again
in ' Sesame and Lilies,' he quotes a long passage
from the * Angel' \ and adds "you cannot read him
too often or too carefully : as far as I know, he is
the only living poet who always strengthens and
purifies : the others sometimes darken, and nearly
always depress and discourage, the imagination they
deeply seize." Later, when a further instalment of
the poem entitled " Faithful for Ever " was castig-
ated in the " Critic," he wrote to the editor a letter
which is worth printing as a piece of criticism apart
from its immediate relation to my subject (see
vol. ii.).

Rossetti's opinion of the poem is given in the
following letter written Jan. 23, 1855 :

" You asked me how I liked * The Angel in the House *.
Of course it is very good indeed, yet will one ever want to
read it again ? The best passages I can recollect now are
the one about * coming where women are/ for the simile of
the frozen ship, and the part concerning the 'brute of a
husband.' From what I hear, I should judge that, in spite
of idiots in the Athenaeum and elsewhere, the book will be
of use to the author's reputation, — a resolute poet, whom I
saw a little while back, and who means to malce his book
bigger than the Divina Commedia, he tells me . . ."

Third prelude to Cant. Ill, in editions of 1890 and 1896.

"THE ANGEL" 169

Rossetti seems to have feared from the first that
the poem would run to too great length ; and when
"Faithful for Ever" appeared he writes again as
follows — parodying the opening of Tennyson's poem
" Love and Duty" :

"I wrote to Patmore after reading his book, which he
sent me, saying all that I (most sincerely) admired in it,
but perhaps leaving some things unsaid ; for what can it
avail to say some things to a man after his third volume ?
' Of love which never finds its published close, what sequel '
And how many " ?

Monckton Milnes seems to have anticipated suc-
cess for the poem, as is shown by the following
letter, which also explains the scope of Patmore's
design :

"British Museum, Dec 23, 1854.

•' Mv DEAR Mr. Milnes,

*' I am very glad to hear of the impartial compliment
my volume received from you, though I regret that the
copy I left at your house as soon as the book came out
should not have reached you in time to save you the trouble
of getting it from the publisher.

'* I sincerely hope that your presages of success may be
fulfilled, chiefly because there are five books yet to come to
complete the poem ; and, though I could go on composing
contentedly enough and confidently enou^, publishtmg is a
different matter, and I have made up my mind to stop at
the third failure.

" Believe me, my dear Mr. Milnes,
" Faithfully yours,

" Coventry Patmore."

It might have been expected that a poem which
had aroused such warm admiration in men of high
literary reputation would have at once made its way
in public esteem. This anticipation however was
not realized, and Patmore was bitterly disappointed
at the failure of the critics fully to recognize its

I70 COVENTRY PATMORE

value. On Jan. 30, 1855, ^^ writes to Monckton
Milnes :

"If you have seen the minor literary journals, you will
be somewhat surprised by the contempt with which the
' Angel ' has, in most cases, been received. The Literary
Gazette says it is so bad that it would pass for a joke, but
for the respectable name of the Publisher.* The Athenaeum
goes out of its way to write a contemptuous squib in rhyme ;*
the Westminster laughs at it in a minor notice, and so on.
One column of very qualified praise in the Examiner (as I
A^tfr, for I never see any criticisms) and a candid notice
in the Press (which nobody reads), is all I have got in
return for years of preparation and labour, and an infinite
sacrifice of worldly advantage to self and others. Unless
the Quarterlies come to my rescue, my poetical career is
at an end : for though, while men like yourself, Carlyle,
Tennyson, and Ruskin think highly of what I do, my con-
fidence cannot be exhausted, my ability to print books at
my own cost, and to devote to verse time that could be
turned to immediate advantage, is.

** Ever sincerely yours,

" Coventry Patmore."

Patmore s estimate of the press notices is not
confirmed by facts. In this instance his usual

* J. Parker and Son.

* The notice in "The Athenaeum" began thus: "The gentle
reader we apprise That this new Angel in the House Contains a tale
not very wise About a person and a spouse. The author, gentle as
a lamb. Has managed his rhymes to fit ; And haply fancies he has
¥rrit Another In Memonam" etc. This parody, which seems to
me to show little more ingenuity than critical judgment, was
written by Mr. H. F. Chorley, a musical and literary critic, whose
biographer fixes on him its authorship, which might well have been
left unclaimed. Probably Chorley attacked Patmore as one of
the Prae-Raphaelite circle. That between him and the P. R. B.
there was no love lost is clear from the following extract from
the Prae-Raphaelite journal (p. 297-8) : " In my progress I heard
some one — by his looks an Academician — observe in reference to
one of Millais's pictures, that no sarcasm could be too fierce for
such absurdities; and another, a Frenchman-cropped, monkey-
looking being (Mr. Chorley) — was in ecstasies of amusement, which
he made it his care to communicate."

"THE ANGEL" 171

optimism about his own affairs seems to have failed
him. I have before me a digest of the opinions of ,
the press on this poem, and these seem to me to be, ^
on the whole, fairly — for an anonymous work, un-
usually — favourable. As however Patmore " never
saw any criticisms/' he probably judged by results,
and the earlier notices did not in fact sell the book.

The second instalment of the poem, "The Es-
pousals," followed in 1856, by which time the earlier
poem was to some extent winning appreciation — not
however sufficient to remunerate the author or to
encourage him to proceed. He writes again to
Monckton Milnes, September i, 1856:

"My dear Mr. Milnes,

" I am delighted with what you tell me of the
'Angel's' increasing influence. The total silence of the
press about the ' Espousals,' in face of things that are being
said and written privately about it by men of the best
literary name in England is very odd and unexpected. I
have written (resolving not to die of dignity) to Mr. Reeve
to ask him to give me a * puff".' Unless the Edinburgh, the
Quarterly or the Times neutralizes the neglect of the rest
of the press by giving the book a notice some twenty years
or so before the usual time for noticing good poetry after
its publication, the appearances of the ' Angel ' are likely to
be very few and far between. The first volume had a little
sale. I suppose because the small reviewers — who are the
greatest flunkies in the world — thought the author was a
country gentleman of landed property. But now it has
transpired that he is ' not a chartist or a lord,'' it seems to
be all over with their compliments and my prospects of the
kind of success which will (>ay my printei^s bill.

" Believe me, my dear Mr. Milnes,
" Ever faithfully yours,

"Coventry Patmore."

I do not know whether the letter to the Editor of
the " Edinburgh Review " was written. If it was, it

* '' Angel in the House," Epilogue to '* The Betrothal"

172 COVENTRY PATMORE

was long in bearing fruit It was not till January
1858, that an article on Patmore's poem appeared in
that periodical. This admirable critique was from
the pen of Mr, Aubrey de Vere, who subsequently
republished it among his collected essays. The
effect of it was, I am told, immediate and important,
causing at once a demand for the poem, and estab-
lishing Patmore's right to rank among the foremost
f)oets of the day. Another review which, written
ater, was of conspicuous service to the fortunes of
the poem was by Dr. Gamett (" Macmillan's Maga-
zine," 3. 121), who again in 1879, when popular ap-
preciation was ebbing, did much towards re-estab-
lishing it by his excellent selection "Florilegium
Amantis."

Mr. de Vere, who modestly refrains from acknow-
ledging the authorship of the Review in the " Edin-
burgh," writes for me concerning the " Angel " :

" The circulation of it at first was slow ; but a few pro-
minent periodicals, among others the Edinburgh Review,
criticised it with copious extracts which spoke for them-
selves. The poem became widely popular both in England
and in America, and at a later time, when published in a
cheaper form, I was informed that more than 100,000 copies
of it had been quickly sold.

" The Poet had had Faith in his Theme ; and though of
his readers some had smiled dubiously, a larger number
had smiled gratefully

" After this great success there came to Patmore, I be-
lieve, one of the happiest periods of his life. The success
was deserved, and it therefore gratified an ambition which
had in it nothing of a selfish character. His life was a
bright one, though his worldly circumstances were narrow
and precarious, and though he had to work hard upon other
labours besides the poetic."

I cannot find any record showing what the remain-
ing four sections of the poem were to have been. Of
these, two only appeared, ** Faithful for Ever " in 1 860,

"THE ANGEL" 173

and "Victories of Love" in 1863. The latter was
first published in " Macmillan's Magazine," Patmore
receiving for it a hundred pounds. No doubt the
strain ofhis wife's illness made it necessary for him
to realize an immediate profit rather than await the
more tardy fruits of publication. There is good
reason for supposing that the later of these owed its
subject to the poet's personal experiences and took
its colour from his wife's dangerous illness, which in
1 860, as has been recorded, had almost proved fatal.
It may also be surmised that after her death, in 1862, ■ ^ ,-

Patmore had not the heart to complete his scheme,
which apparently contemplated giving in greater ' ^

detail the subsequent life of Felix and Honoria, the
hero and heroine of the earlier part of the poem. It
is doubtful whether the completion of the design on
the lines originally laid down would have been alto-
gether a success — whether the interest could have
been fully sustained. The mere glimpse of the suc-
cessful and happy life of the wedded couple, which
occurs incidentally, is probably more feliatous than
a more elaborate description could have been. Still,
for the poem as it first appeared in the four sec-
tions, much re-arrangement and welding of the parts
was needed to give it organic unity and complete-
ness ; and, though it would be an impossible task to
show fully and in detail how the result was reached,
some few of the more salient points of revision may
be recorded.

It is obvious that in " Faithful for Ever" Patmore
intended the strongest contrast in subject with the
earlier part of the poem. This had pictured a suc-
cessful courtship and the happy marriage of two
people in all respects suited to each other : in the
sequel, Frederick, the unsuccessful suitor of the lady
who figures as heroine in the earlier poem, is caught
on the rebound, and by chance rather than by choice

174 COVENTRY PATMORE

marries a woman who is apparently little suited to
him, but who by virtue of essential womanliness
vindicates her position as wife, and becomes by de-
grees a true partner to her husband. In the final
section, the " Victories of Love/' this union, so far
completed on earth, is consecrated and established as
eternal by her death.

In these later instalments Patmore adopted a new
scheme and a change of metre. The poem, with the
exception of " The Wedding Sermon," is cast as a
series of letters passing between the different char-
acters ; and the metre, still " iambic" and octosyllabic,

/ is in consecutive instead of in alternate rhyme, this
no doubt seeming to the poet more suitable to the
epistolary scheme. The new form inevitably alters
the essential mode of presentment. Letters, to be of
interest, necessarily require some traits of individual
character, and the personality of the writers is con-
sequently more vividly pourtrayed in the later than
in the earlier part of the poem. This change in-
volved some pitfalls for the poet, which he ulti-
mately escaped only by most careful revision . Fn the
earlier portion the principal characters had appeared
as types rather than as individuals, and it was diffi-
cult to re-introduce them in the new atmosphere
without compromising their original ideality. For
example : in the first draught of the poem there is a
letter from ** Honoria," rather ** kittenish" in tone,
which seems to strike an altogether false note. This

. letter, under revision, is somewhat altered and is
assigned to " Mildred," who in the earlier portion is
sketched with more " personality " than Honoria ;
while the latter now appears only by allusion, and
disappears as a correspondent. Such changes as
this, an extensive rearrangement of the parts, con-
siderable omissions, the toning down of ** Jane," who
in the first presentment is pictured as hopelessly and

"THE ANGEL" 175

irredaimably common, and a multitude of improve-
ments in phrase, served to give the entire poem such
unity and coherence as might obviate any appear-
ance of departure from an original design. Thus
completed, the four sections together came to be
known as the " Angel in the House," which inclusive
title has superseded the original subdivisions.

In revising the poem, Patmore was greatly aided
by two friends, Mr. de Vere and Dr. Garnett, whose
letters (given in vol. ii.), show the influence which
they exerted. Mr. de Vere was especially anxious
that the poem should be relieved of anything which
might be considered " poetical baggage," and Dr.
Garnett, with keen critical insight, calls attention
to inequalities in tone, atmosphere and composi-
tion.

Patmore, who was himself prepared to bestow in-
finite pains upon the work of others even if it did
not greatly interest him, frequently consulted his
friends when any of his writings were under revision,
accepting their advice only as it commended itself
to him. Among his letters is a very extensive
series written by Father Gerard Hopkins, S.J.,* whom
he consulted in 1883 when preparing for publica-
tion a revised edition of his poems. The criticisms
contained in them are most precise and technical —
too much so to be of interest to the general reader ;
but it is evident that they have all been most care-
fully considered by Patmore, who scores those he
accepts as " done," and takes no notice of others.
He could however occasionally be forced into ac-
cepting a correction which did not commend itself
to him. Two such instances have come to my know-
ledge. For the first : a friend of his was extremely
anxious that a certain passage in "Faithful for Ever *'

* Sec voL ii.

c

%

/

176 COVENTRY PATMORE

should disappear in a new issue. It was of what I
A^^may call the physiologico-sentimental type, which
abounds in the writings of Michelet. The friend
who desired its elimination was unmarried, and Pat-
more wrote : " When you are married you will take a
very different view of the passage ; " to which the
friend replied, " If I thought that marriage would
make me like it, I would vow to remain single."
Patmore made no reply to this, but the re-issue
appeared without the lines criticised. For the second
case : in a new edition of the " Odes " an important
line seemed to have been altered for the worse.
Patmore admitted that the original version had been
better, but said he had altered it under the urgent
pressure of a friend. He was however, as a rule,
most studiously careful and resolute in revision. He
writes, " An imperfect line has always lain upon my
K" conscience like a sin, and I have never rested until —
sometimes after many years of vain endeavour — I
have got it right;" and about the ** Angel," referring
to the 1878 edition, he says, " If ever you read the
poem again you will find it much the brighter for
the few seemingly trifling omissions and changes I
have made." Patmore always maintained to me
that the latter half of the poem was superior to the
former, an opinion to which few of his admirers will
be likely to assent.

As regards the ultimate success of the ** Angel"
it is clear that the Edinburgh article of January, 1858,
was a landmark in the progress of its reputation.
From this time success was practically assured :
reviewers became generally more respectful, and the
public bought largely. Its fortunes were no doubt
subject to considerable fluctuation. Ruskin, who
took an almost fatherly interest in the poem, anti-
cipated injury to its circulation from Patmores

>/

-THE ANGEL" 177

change of creed and second marriage,* a prophecy
which I have no doubt was in some measure fulfilled.
Fashion too at a later time impaired its reputation.
A new school of poetry arose, with Mr. Swinburne
for its leader, which set public taste in search of
greater complexity of metre, ** more refulgent colour,
more fiery emotion, a more revolutionary aspect of
life."«

The adherents of the new school were not remiss
in their endeavour to cast contempt on Patmore's
more quiet and domestic Muse, and, so far as the
critical press is a gauge of reputation, his fame
suffered severely. It seems impossible to ascertain
how far such contemptuous notice as he at one time
received affected the sale of his poem, nor can any
accurate estimate be given of the circulation ulti-
mately reached. I think however that it may be
confidently stated that at the time of Patmores
death, without reckoning the popular edition pub-
lished by Messrs. Cassell, the sale had amounted to
between two hundred thousand and a quarter of a
million copies.

* See letter, vol. ii.

■ Quoted from Mr. Gosse's article in the "North American
Review" for March, 1897, which gives from an early copy of
" The Angel " many passages omitted from the work as it finally
appeared.

N

CHAPTER XII

RELATIONS WITH TENNYSON AND OTHER FRIENDS

AS soon as he was definitely embarked on a
poetical career, Patmore was most anxious
to make the acquaintance of Tennyson, who
was already in his opinion the great poet of the day,
and for whose work he then had an almost unlimited
admiration. I can find no record either of the time
or place of their first meeting. In all probability it
was through the Procters that they became known
to each other. The acquaintance soon ripened into
intimacy : they met constantly, and used to take,
long walks together at night, often prolonging them
into the early morning. Patmore's admiration for
Tennyson as a man fully equalled his appreciation
of his poetry. For years he regarded friendship with
him as one of the great privileges of his life : his own
marriage caused no modification of his feelings, nor
interuption of intercourse : Tennyson's warm ap-
preciation of Emily Patmore^s character served to
strengthen the tie ; and when, three years later,
Tennyson also married, Patmore was among the first
to be introduced to the bride, of whom his judgment
is given in letters to his wife, written from Coniston,
where he was staying with the Tennysons : more-
over, the two ladies entered on a friendship which
could not but consolidate that of their husbands.
The cordial relations of the wives is sufficiently
proved by Mrs. Tennyson s letters to Emily Patmore
(given in the second volume), which also show that
Mrs. Patmore was of considerable assistance to Ten-

RELATIONS WITH TENNYSON 179

nyson in gathering material for the " Idylls of the
King." Tennyson on the other hand, as has been
shown, interested himself in the "Angel," when
Patmore was preparing it for the press, gave him
valuable criticisms, and what was no doubt of even
more account, cordial encouragement.

The story of Patmore recovering for Tennyson
the manuscript of ** In Memoriam" has been often
told. It may be given here in Patmore s own words.
This memorandum appears to have been written
about 1872.

" Tennyson had lodgings up two pair of stairs, in Mom-
ington Place, Hampstead Road ; and I, who was lately
married, lived hard by. We used to dine together two or
three times a week. He liked his port, but did not care
much about its quality. He got his bottle daily from the
nearest Public. He often read me bits of * In Memoriam,'
then unpublished. After he had left his lodgings three or
four weeks, I received a letter from where he was staying in
the country asking me to go to his old lodging and recover
the manuscript of * In Memoriam* — a long thin volume
like a butcher's account book. He left it in a closet in
which he kept his tea and bread-and-butter. The landlady
assured me that no such book had been left there, and
objected to my going to see ; but I insisted, and, pushing
by her, ran upstairs and found the manuscript. Tennyson
afterwards gave this volume to Sir John Simeon, to whom
also I gave the letter asking me to look for it*'

Tennyson's letter to Patmore is as follows :

" Bonchurch, I.W.,

"Feb. 28th, 1850.

"My dear Coventry,

" I went up to my room yesterday to get my book
of Elegies : you know what I mean, a long, butcher-ledger-
like book. I was going to read one or two to an artist here :
I could not find it I have some obscure remembrance of
having lent it to you: if so, all is well : if not, will you go to
my old chambers and institute a rigorous inquiry ? I was
coming up to-day to look after it, but as the weather is so

i8o COVENTRY PATMORE

furious I have yielded to the wishes of my friends to stop
till to morrow. I shall be, I expect, in town to-morrow at
25 M.P., when I shall be glad to see you. At 9.10 p.m. the
train in which I come gets into London. I shall be in
Momington Place about 10 o'clock f suppose. Perhaps
you would in your walk Museum-ward call on Mrs. Lloyd
and tell her to prepare for me. With best remembrances
to Mrs. Patmore,

" Believe me ever yours,

"A. Tennyson."

The manuscript was, on Jan. 27, 1898, presented
to the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge, by
Lady Simeon and Hallam, second Lord Tenny-
son.

Patmore's name has, I find, been associated with
"In Memoriam " in another way. An idea seems
to be prevalent that in the opening stanza,

" I hold it true with one who sings •
To one clear harp in divers tones.
That men may rise on stepping-stones

Of their dead selves to higher things,"

Tennyson is alluding to Patmore. I should not
have noticed the rumour had it not been urged on
me repeatedly, and had I not seen it in print. The
only passage in Patmore's poems which seems likely
to have given rise to this notion occurs in ** Felix,
Love's Apology," published in **Tamerton Church
Tower," and is as follows :

" For looking backward through his tears

With vision of maturer scope.
He smiles, as one dead joy appears

The platform of some better hope."

Patmore's volume was published in 1853, three years
after "In Memoriam" appeared. It might be argued
that the lines quoted had been written earlier, and
that Tennyson had seen them in manuscript. But

RELATIONS WITH TENNYSON i8i

the allusion is presumably to something already be-
fore the public ; and though the stanza in "In
Memoriam" has been a puzzle to many, I do not
think that this solution can hold.

Commenced and established under such condi-
tions, strengthened moreover by marriage — the very
circumstance which so often leads to alienation — the
friendship might well have been held likely to endure.
It is notorious that it came to an untimely end; and
as various reasons have been given for the estrange-
ment, all more or less inadequate or altogether wide
of the mark, it is necessary to give here an account
of the breach which occurred and of its origin.
Though this was in large measure due to special
misadventure, there seem to have been other causes
which should not be ignored.

When the friendship commenced, Patmore, con-
siderably younger as a man, and not so far estab-
lished as a poet, was altogether at Tennyson's feet ;
and, as he himself is reported to have said, " used to
follow him about like a dog.'*

Such relations between the younger and the older
poet (those who knew Patmore in later days may
well ^nd it hard to believe that his attitude could
ever have been obsequious or parasitic) could not
have continued permanently. As he advanced in
years, in mental maturity, and in fixity of ideas, Pat-
more must necessarily have assumed a position of
frcater equality and of increasing independence,
ome such readjustment in the relations of two per-
sons of unequal age is a matter of constant necessity
whether they be members of the same family or
merely friends. The interval, if a paradox may be
allowed, might be said to lie between parallel fines
which are ever approaching each other, and is con-
stantly becoming narrower with the lapse of time.

i82 COVENTRY PATMORE

What is in earlier life a substantial superiority counts
for little at more advanced stages, and equality is
practically reached when both have attained to
maturity. The acceptance of such gradual changes
of relative position makes a distinct call on elasticity
and generosity of temperament. On the one hand
the original superiority has to be surrendered with
grace ; on the other the new independence has to
be asserted without arrogance. In the present case
I can imagine that the adaptation may have been
attended with some slight friction. One may suspect
on the one hand some survival of a predominance
which was already a little out of date, while, on the
other, Patmore may not have shown himself too
tactful or conciliatory in asserting the independence
due to his own more recently acquired maturity.

I think too that further causes of partial detach-
ment are to be discerned in the critical attitude of
the younger toward the older poet. Patmore was a
frequent reviewer of Tennyson's work,^ and it is
evident from the earlier criticism that he had looked
on him as a great, as potentially the ideal poet — a
view which was maintained throughout the publica-
tion of the whole of Tennyson's earlier work. Mean-
while Patmore's own mystic tendencies had been
developing, and these implied a somewhat new stan-
dard of poetry. One finds him, strangely enough,
endeavouring to discover in the ** Princess " some
occult meaning, as though he were seeking to adjust
it to his newly-conceived ideal — a reading which it
obviously will not admit, and which Patmore would
himself have eventually seen to be quite foreign to
the poet's intention. And indeed this attempt to
foist on the poem a secondary meaning is the more
surprising, as its obvious design is so entirely conson-

^ It appears certain that Tennyson never knew by whom these
critiques were written.

RELATIONS WITH TENNYSON 183

ant with Patmore s view of the relation of the
sexes. As to " Maud," while allowing that it con-
tains lyrical passages of almost unrivalled delicacy
and beauty (of which one,* possibly the best of
all, had been published before), he condemns it on
the ground that the main motive is obscured and
ambiguous, that it is left doubtful whether the
opinions expressed are subjective or dramatic, whether
the poet or his hero is supposed to deliver them.
Ultimately Patmore came to be of the same opinion
as others among Tennyson's older friends (notably
the late Edward Fitz-Gerald) that his substantial
contribution to poetry had been completed with the
publication of the earlier poems, and that the later
were little more than an eking out of the original
inspiration — that, as he often put it, " the earlier
were Tennyson and the later Tennysonian." It
can I think scarcely be doubted that the little " rift
within the lute " of friendship had, at least on Pat-
more s part, been already started, and may have con-
duced to the eventual severance ; and though this,
as we shall see, was actually due to one of those
misadventures which are almost as hopeless to obvi-
ate as they are lamentable, it may be surmised that
growing mental alienation, combined with some
degree of strain upon their original relations, had
made each less anxious to seek explanation, or to
revert to the old terms of friendship.

This misadventure I need not endeavour to de-
scribe, as it is fully explained by the following corre-
spondence which passed at the time, and later, when
for some nineteen years they had neither met nor
corresponded. Patmore's letter was written at the
instigation of Woolner, an intimate friend of both,
who deeply regretted the alienation.

' The canto beginning, "Oh that 'twere possible," had been
published in " The Tribute" in 1837.

i84 COVENTRY PATMORE

" Hastings, June 5th, '81.

"My dear Mr. Tennyson,

" I have lately heard from Mr. Woolner that you
are under the impression that I have, for a long time, cesised
to desire the continuance of our former friendly intercourse,
and he assured me that you have expressed a kindly wish
that I should know, through him, that you were never
aware of the last steps I took in order to maintain a posi-
tion among your friends — a position of which, I need hardly
say, I was always proud. I assure you that nothing was
ever further from my thoughts than a voluntary neglect of
your claims and my privilege.

" When my wife Emily was lying dead in my house, I
received a letter from Mrs. Tennyson, inclosing for my
signature a memorial which had been made and presented
by you to the Committee of the Literary Fund for my
advantage. I confess that I felt a little vexed at that Com-
mittee — several of whom, by the way, were my personal
friends — shaving been asked by you to render me an assist-
ance which, as it happened, I did not need, and which, had
I needed it ever so much, I should not have sought ; but, as
I knew that the step had been taken by you wholly in
kindness to me, I was so far from expressing any vexation,
that in a few days I followed up a letter to Mrs. Tennyson,
thanking her and you, but saying that my circumstances
could not justify the grant of a gratuity from the Fund,
by another letter asking you — as you were in town at the
time — to come and spend an evening with me at my cottage
at Hampstead, adding that [as] it was so short a time after
my wife's death, I could not go to see you, as I should
otherwise have done.

" I thought that, in asking you to come to see me at such
a time, I was acting with marked respect and friendliness
to you, and in the best way to remove any uncomfortable
feeling which you may have had on account of the applica-
tion to the Fund.

" But I never heard again from you ; and you will own, I
think, that I should have been forcing myself on your at-
tention had I done other than wait for the next word to
come from you. It will be a great satisfaction to me to
know that my letter never reached you and the Post alone
has been to blame for our having each attributed to the
other some degree of neglect.

RELATIONS WITH TENNYSON 185

" Begging to be remembered very kindly to Mrs. Tenny-
son,

" Believe me,

" Dear Mr. Tennyson,

" Yours truly,

"C. Patmore."

" Farringdon, Freshwater, Isle of Wight,
"June nth, 1881.

" Mv DEAR Patmore,

" As I am perfectly certain that I never received
any such letter as you allude to, I can only regret that this
long estrangement has taken place — and pray you to be-
lieve that I am

" Always yours,

"A. Tennyson."

The following letters refer to the application (in
1862) for a pension alluded to above :

"Dear Mrs. Tennyson,

" I could not feel that the course which your kind
anxiety for me induced you to take was one of which I was
justified by my circumstances in reaping the fruits. I there-
fore wrote to Mr. Blewitt to say so, and to stop further pro-
ceedings before the business of the monthly meeting com-
menced. Whatever pressure may be Uf>on me at present
is I trust nothing more than I shall now be able to recover
from, with the discharge of every obligation, in a moderate
period of industry and economy.

•• With sincere thanks for your kind wishes and en-
deavours and expressions of sympathy, I am,
" Dear Mrs. Tennyson,
** Yours most truly,

*' Coventry Patmore."

," Elm Cottage, North Road, Hampstcad,
'•July 9, 1862.

" Sir,

*^ I have just heard that an application has been
made for me to the Royal Literary Fund by Mr. and Mrs.
Tennyson. Though done with the kindest intentions, this
has been with an entire misapprehension of my circum-
stances and wishes, and I beg you to favour me by at once

^:

i86 COVENTRY PATMORE

stopping any proceedings which may have been commenced
in consequence of that application, and by further com-
municating the substance of this letter to any persons who
may have been acquainted with that application.
" I am, Sir,

" Your obedient servant,
"Coventry Patmore.
" Octavian Blewitt, Esq.
" 4 Adelphi Terrace."

The history of this application for a pension is as
follows. Mrs. Patmore's long illness had necessarily
/ been a severe strain on her husband s very limited
resources, and of this his more intimate friends must
have been aware. A lady, more distinguished for
zeal than for discretion in the service of her friends,
desired to help him, and, without consulting him, set
on foot a memorial for a grant from the Literary
Fund, asking Tennyson, among the first, to give it
his support. This he did without hesitation, thinking
no doubt that the proposal had received Patmore s
sanction. He can scarcely be blamed for assuming
that Patmore was a party to the scheme, nor could
he have been expected to be so punctilious as to ask
for a more direct authority, or to have anticipated so
scrupulous a reluctance. For Patmore the whole
transaction was undoubtedly wounding both to pride
and self-respect ; especially as it must have seemed
to him like an attempt to make capital for him out of
his wife's death. But he appears, at least eventually,
to have taken a just view of Tennyson's share
in it.

There can be no doubt that the facts indicated in
these letters were the immediate cause of the aliena-
tion that ensued, but they account for it only as far
as Patmore is concerned. The letter which mis-
carried would no doubt have given convincing proof
of the value which he set on Tennyson's friendship :
indeed that he should have written to him at all at

RELATIONS WITH TENNYSON 187

such a time was a mark of affection which could
scarcely have been claimed or expected. When a
severe bereavement has befallen a friend, it is from
the other side that proofs of sympathy usually pro-
ceed ; and, as Tennyson had had a sincere admira-
tion and affection for Emily Patmore, he no doubt
felt so much participation in his friend s loss as would
ordinarily make condolence easy to express and
doubly welcome to receive. It is obvious however
that there was at this time no personal communica-
tion from him, nor can I find later any trace of
messages of sympathy or inquiries such as might
have been made through any one of the many friends
they continued to have in common. Patmore was
allowed to drift away in his sorrow without help from
the friendship on which, up to that time, he had
specially relied. Nevertheless, there is ever)- reason
to believe that this negligence was due to no heart-
lessness or indifference on Tennyson's part. Prob-
ably he either assumed Patmore's confidence in his
sympathy and thought the expression of it super-
fluous, or he may have postponed and finally put
aside a friendly duty which was irksome to fulfil. His
utter unconsciousness of being in any degree respon-
sible for the alienation seems to point to this conclu-
sion. Even after the long estrangement which
followed, the above letter of Tennyson's, though it
explained away the original ground of offence, was
scarcely such as to lead to a renewal of friendship.
A very few additional words would have made the
whole difference ; but those words were not written,
and, to a sensitive and proud nature such as Patmore's,
the impasse necessarily seemed hopeless as ever. I
quite remember his telling me that the result of the
correspondence was such as to afford no opening for
a return to the former intimacy. Nevertheless I
firmly believe that it was Tennyson s desire completely

i88 COVENTRY PATMORE

to remove all obstacles to reconciliation. At this
time he seldom wrote letters with his own hand : he
saw in this case the necessity of making this unusual
effort, while he may be supposed to have uncon-
sciously economized the labour. He consequently
failed in what I believe to have been his fixed inten-
tion. Patmore did however so far accept this ex-
planation as to send Tennyson a copy of the " Odes,"
of which he received no more than a formal acknow-
ledgment.^ Had Tennyson expressed the warm ad-
miration which, his son assures me, he felt for these
poems, much would have been done towards repair-
ing the breach.

The present Lord Tennyson tells me that his
father, to the end of his life, used frequently to
wonder why Patmore had "given him up"; that he
always spoke of him with respect and affection, and
regretted the estrangement.

But of Patmore's own attitude there is much more
to be said. In the first place it seems surprising
that this effort at reconciliation was not made earlier.
It was so simple a matter, one would think, to ask an
intimate friend whether a letter which met with no
reply had ever come to hand. That he did not do
so at once is I think to be accounted for partly by
the not unnatural expectation that Tennyson would
be the first to break the silence, partly by the cir-
cumstances in which the miscarriage occurred.
Patmore was at the time overwhelmed by the loss he
had undergone, and few can face such grief without
some morbid increase of sensitiveness. It is clear

^ " Aid worth, Haslemere, Surrey,

"July 28, '81.
"My dear Patmore,

" Many thanks for your ' Unknown Eros,' which reached
me this morning.

" Yours very truly,

"A. Tennyson."

RELATIONS WITH TENNYSON 189

that, whatever germ of alienation there may have
been, Patmore, up to the time of his wife s death,
still r^farded Tennyson as his greatest friend ; in-
deed he had put this friendship at so high a level as
to make all others shrink to the rank of mere ac-
quaintanceship (see above, p. 136). It cannot have
been defect, more probably it was excess of affection
which made him take the apparent rebuff so hardly.
Even when the stress of bereavement was somewhat
abated, he was still living the life of a recluse, seeking
and seeing few if any of his former friends. Then
came a severe illness, his journey to Rome, his change
of creed, his second marriage ; and I have no doubt
that in connection with both these later steps he an-
ticipated a severance of old friendships, feeling doubt-
ful whether he would be received by former asso-
ciates on the old terms, and having himself, at first,
scruples about renewing or forming ties with those
who were without the pale. Doubtless too the new
interests served to obscure the old ; while the atti-
tude of adverse criticism towards his former friend,
not altogether unaffected by a still lingering sense of
injury, may so far have developed meanwhile as to
diminish his desire for reconciliation. Certainly his
spoken criticism of Tennyson was increasingly severe
and his thoughts of him bitter. Equally certain was
it that much of the old admiration survived, though
obscured by the later ill-feeling. I have often, after
listening to some trenchant diatribe against Tenny-
son the Poet and Tennyson the man, and when the
talk had for some time passed to other subjects,
purposely alluded to some one of the earlier poems —
when the old enthusiasm would break forth in words
no less forcible than those in which the former
strictures had been conveyed. Often too in our
walks he would quote passages from the favourites
of old days, evidently with undiminished admiration.

^v

190 COVENTRY PATMORE

It was obvious also that all that he had to say against
his former friend was derived from the period of
their constant intercourse, — that what he now quoted
in disparagement of Tennyson had formerly proved
incompatible neither with extreme intimacy nor with
enthusiastic admiration. The unfavourable colour
which such matters had assumed in retrospect must
therefore have been altogether of later origin ; and
the inevitable conclusion was that Patmore's judg-
ment had been warped by the estrangement ; that
\ the present bitterness was proportionate to the

^ original affection^ — in fact represented the old feelings

reversed. A further confirmation of this view was
forced on those who observed him, by the increased
bitterness of his strictures after his removal to Lym-
ington. Though the new home had been chosen
without regard to its proximity to Farringford, I
cannot but think that Patmore hoped and anticipated
(he was far too proud ever to mention such a
thought) that this change of abode would lead to a
renewal of intercourse, and that he was disappointed
? ^ when time passed and no overtures were made. That

I ^i they were not made, seems to have been due to a

I.S sense of the awkwardness with which, after the long

; 1 suspension of intercourse, the new approach would

V be attended ; and this notwithstanding that, but a few

years since, Patmore had cordially received the
Lionel Tennysons as well as Horatio Tennyson and
his family. It is deeply to be regretted that this occa-
^^ sion was not improved, that the overtures were not

""'^ made. A reconciliation would have been welcomed

-"^^ by every friend and by every true admirer of either
poet ; and, as a matter of less moment though of
peculiar interest, one would have been glad to see
how far the renewal of friendly relations served to
modify Patmore's attitude of hostile criticism.

It is however only fair to record that this dispar-

\- I- ■■ ,

^ 1 ' "^ .

" /? -

'^^

I

RELATIONS WITH TENNYSON 191

agement was confined to private conversation, and
that, to the last, every word that Patmore published
concerning Tennyson was courteous and apprecia-
tive. This fact may well serve as an answer to
those, if any there are, who consider that jealousy of
Tennyson's greater success was a motive of the de-
traction.

It is pleasant to think that friendly messages
passed' between Tennyson and Patmore some two
years before the former s death ; and that Patmore
made every effort to be present at his old friend s
funeral, though a misadventure defeated his intention.
He travelled to London to be in readiness ; but,
through an inadvertence, the invitation was sent to
the old home at Hastings, was forwarded thence to
Lymington and sent on to him in London, where it
arrived just too late to be of service.

Those who hope that the old friends have met
again where misunderstandings are no longer pos- . fi^ff*^ *
sible, may venture to believe that, on the one side, j ^V
the old affection will have been found unimpaired,
and that, on the other, the feelings, which always)
underlay and even caused detraction and bitterness -
here, have alone survived the change.

This appears to be the only definite breach which
occurred between Patmore and any of his friends.
Neither in the correspondence nor in any available
records can I find a trace of any similar estrange-
ment. It is true that his change of creed, possibly
even to a greater degree his second marriage, caused
an interruption in intercourse with many of his

' Through Mr. Gosse.

192 COVENTRY PATMORE

friends, while the life of almost complete seclusion
which followed these events postponed, for a time, its
renewal. There are indications too that he was
maliciously misrepresented as being unapproachable.
Most of his early friendships however were re-
newed after an interval. Some few, mainly from
lack of opportunity, finally lapsed. There are also
traces of rough but not unfriendly sparring by word
and letter with some of his old associates, whom too
he allowed himself to criticise freely, though in no
unjust or captious spirit. But in no single case do
I find him the originator of any breach of friendly
relations. On the other hand, I know that he proved
capable of exceptional patience and magnanimity
under serious provocation. For example : one of his
oldest friends, who preserved ostensibly the most
cordial relations with Patmore, was constantly un-
scrupulous and virulent in detraction, and spared no
one, least of all those with whom he was most inti-
mate. He was under deep obligations to Patmore,
who had spent infinite pains upon his writings, a task
which was all the more onerous, as these works were
not specially congenial to him. All this, though cordi-
ally acknowledged, failed to secure an exception in
Patmore's favour, who became, no less than others,
the subject of habitual detraction. Patmore was
warned of the treachery to which he was being made
a victim, but answered that *' he had all along thought
it highly probable that he was one of the many

objects of *s evil speaking, but had not chosen

on that account to part company with a friend of
many years."

The following letter is evidence of a misunder-
standing which arose through no fault of Patmore's,
and of his anxiety to remove it. Everyone knows
how acute was Browning s sensitiveness to any attack
upon his wife.

RELATIONS WITH TENNYSON 193

" Hastings,

"Oct. 13, 1884.
"My dear Browning,

"It is long since I have received any letter giving
me so much pleasure as is given me by that which I have
just received from you. I had a sort of feeling that a
passage of very coarse censure of your wife's poems, which
was introduced into a review of mine in the ' Edinburgh '
by the Editor after I had seen and passed the proofs, had
produced — as it well might — a coolness on your part. I
did not explain it at the time, because I wished to preserve
for a space the etiquette of anonymity; and, when that
space was over, it seemed too late. It has always however
been a matter of much regret to me that I let the matter
pass ; and so I feel greatly rejoiced that you yourself have
so kindly opened the way to my words.

" As you speak so kindly of my verses as well as Henry's
I will ask you to accept my last little volume, which perhaps
you have not seen.

" Believe me,

" My dear Browning,
" Yours ever truly,

"Coventry Patmore."

There are too other letters of Patmore's which
show an eager desire to remove any grievance his
friends had, or might be supposed to have against
him, and a most punctilious regard for their feelings.

It may here be noted, in passing, how worrying to
contributors, as well as fruitful in misunderstandings,
the system of editorial interpolation must have been.
It seems however in earlier days to have prevailed
almost universally, even Southey having to com-
plain of the liberties taken with his "copy/* In
the present instance the offending passage cannot be
authoritatively identified, as Patmore has not pre-
served the article alluded to. But in a review of Ten-
nyson's " Maud " I find the following passage marked
by Patmore as an interpolation by the same editor :
" Neither sound nor sense can reconcile us to such
lines as

I. o

194

COVENTRY PATMORE

>■

ht«^

tine one
** sense/'

* Now to the scream of a maddened beach dragged down
by the wave."-

The line selected is of course a specially
even for Tennyson, both in "sound" and
or rather imaginative force. Another transaction
with the editor of the "■ Edinburgh Review" may be
recorded here. Patmore had received early sheets
of the " Idylls of the King/' which he forwarded to
him with an offer to review the poem. The editor, in
a letter which Patmore has preserved, calls attention
to the immorality of the subject, which he castigates
in no measured terms, at the same time singling out
for condemnation on metrical grounds one or two
monosyllabic lines which most readers would consider
excellent. 1 1 seems almost certain that the editor was
unacquainted with Sir Thomas Malory, in whose
work the'*immoralities" appear in far greater crudity,
and meet with sympathy rather than with censure-
In the review ('* Edinburgh Review/' 1859) which
he wrote, Patmore shows with great delicacy and
tacthowthe moral irregularities which the old legends
pourtray are brought more closely home to the
reader by the comparatively modern atmosphere with
which the poet surrounds the action ; and at the
same time calls attention to the no doubt inten-
tional predominance of English words in the poem,
which would lead to the prevalence of monosyllabic
lines. Lord Tennyson tells me that his father never
knew by whom this review was written, but always
looked on it as one of the best criticisms he had ever
had. The authorship was ascertained after Tenny-
son's death, and is recorded in his biography.

The letters and memoranda which follow were
written before and after the estrangement with Tenny-

y

^\

RELATIONS WITH TENNYSON 195

son, and are divided accordingly. I may leave it
to the reader to contrast or reconcile the various
judgments recorded, or to discount them according
to the feelings which may be considered to have in-
spired them. They are printed here in all respects
as they came to hand.

" Ambleside, Aug., 1850.

"Dearest,

" I like Mrs. Tennyson more and more every day.
She seems to like me, as she talks more freely than a
woman of such character would without a considerable
faith in her hearers.

*• Yesterday it was too wet to go to church, and Tenny-
son read prayers, lessons, and a sermon by Maurice. The -^
more I talk with him the more I discover that I was right
in thinking that he has given a defective notion of his faith
in ' In Memoriam.' He is far above all the pantheistic
' religious faculty ' humbug that taints so many half-geniuses \ .
in this day ; and I am sure he would be horrified if he
knew that any such men had been led by ' In Memoriam '
to count him as a fellow-heathen. . . .

" I cannot enough value my advantage in seeing so much
of Tennyson. It is a great good to me to find that I have
my superior, which I have never found in the cpmpany of
ar\y one else. In the society of the nearly tip-top men,
likcThackeray, Carlyle and Allingham, I feel an inferiority
only of the means of expressing myself— and this I some-
times experience even with the next class of talented men,

like M or I^ . But in Tennyson I perceive a nature

higher and wider than my own ; at the foot of which I can
sit happily and with love.

"... Speaking of Allingham, it is surprising what an
impression he has made on Tennyson. He speaks of his
immense capacities, &c., &c., and you know how chary
generally he is of his superlatives. Tennyson has pointed
out so many beauties I did not before perceive in A.'s
poems that I am coming round to his belief, that they are
the h^sX, first book we have ever had.*

\'

* Tennyson's encomium is probably somewhat overstated, under
the influence of Fatmore's friendship for Allingham.

196 COVENTRY PATMORE

" It is satisfactory to find that my own judgment of these
poems, made in opposition to every body else's, is so con-
firmed. Curiously enough Tennyson saw the resemblance
to Goethe immediately ; and when I told him something
about Allingham's manner and character, he dwelt upon the
analogy over and over again, and seemed to contemplate
for A. one of the most splendid careers ever gone through
6** by an English Poet He quite sees his faults, his heartless
/ tJL ' ^*^ j artistism,* and the great danger which may accrue from
^ I ^^ '^ ' such extraordinary faculties united with so little wholesome
^ ^/ /^ feeling.

"i^ (^ / " We are going to call on Dr. Wordsworth (at the poet's

f/ ,y house) a circuit of some forty or sixty miles. You will be

J? \ ' ' \ glad to hear the Tennysons are thinking of taking a house

' *; ^ i ' near London. They have asked me to look for one for

^^^ ^, O them about Mill Hill or Barnet.

, -■ "Coventry."

r

"Coniston, Aug., 1850.

"Dearest,

"Nothing can be pleasanter than everything here.
Tennyson is not writing just now, so that he gives all his
time to amusing himself and us. Yesterday we were out
almost all day upon the Lake. I find rowing capital ex-
ercise. I gave Tennyson Allingham's volume yesterday.
A. would have had his head quite turned if he could have
heard and seen Tennyson reading " Evening," " The Ser-
enade," " The Pilot's Daughter " aloud among the water-
lilies of the Lake. You know how much Allingham thinks
of having his verses read in appropriate places and times.
I was quite jealous of Tennyson's admiration of them. I
never heard him praise any other living poet so freely, and
he agrees with me in thinking that A. may achieve a very
high position if he chooses. We dine at two o'clock, after
which I get the most delightful tite-d-tite with Tennyson
over his wine for two or three hours. You know what in-
estimable value I always attach to conversations with him.
Imagine how rich I think myself now. After dinner, we
go out (mind I generalize from two days' experience) again
till dark, and after tea Tennyson reads aloud, or we talk till
half-past ten or eleven. Yesterday Tennyson said a great

* Compare p. 143.

f0- *

RELATIONS WITH TENNYSON 197

deal about you. He said he had never seen anything so

enchanting as your innocence and simplicity of manner /

and mind. Do you not think yourself happy at having got

among the poets ? I have just had a long talk with Mrs.

Tennyson. She seems to be in all respects worthy of

her husband. She is a thorough lady — according to my

standard. She is highly cultivated, but her mind seems y /*'

always deeper than her cultivation, and her heart always

deeper than her mind, — or rather constituting the main

element of her mind. She is familiar with the best modem

books, Ruskin, Maurice, Hare, &c. Her religion is at once

deep and wide ; so that upon this and most subjects I feel

that I am most fortunate in having many opportunities

forthcoming of talking with her.

" The Post waits.
"Yours,

" Coventry."

'* Ambleside, Aug. 3rd, 1850.

"Mrs. Tennyson seems to be a very charming person, and
I have already seen enough of her to feel that any descrip-
tion of her from a short acquaintance is sure to be unjust
Her manners are perfectly simple and lady-like, and she
has that high cultivation which is only found among the
upper classes in the country, and there very seldom. She
has instruction and intellect enough to make the stock-in-
trade of half-a-dozen literary ladies ; but she is neither
brilliant nor literary at all. Tennyson has made no
hasty or ill-judged choice. She seems to understand him
thoroughly, and, without the least ostentation or officious-
ness of affection, waits upon and attends to him as she \ i

oi^ht to do. She is of very pleasing appearance, and looks p/

about 32. Tent Lodge is the prettiest place in the world.
A moderate sized house, built and furnished in quiet taste,
standing on the foot of a hill that shelves to Coniston Lake,
along which a small park, which belongs to the house,
extends. There is a boat belonging to the house, and last
night Tennyson rowed me half way down the Lake.

" Coventry."

All that follows was written after the estrange-
ment

f

198

COVENTRY PATMORE

/5

\y

"Tennyson is like a great child, very simple and very much
self-absorbed. I never heard him make a remark of his .
own which was worth repeating, yet I always left him with^
a mind and heart enlarged, I n any other man, his incessant
dwelling upon trifles concerning himself, generally small
injuries — real or imaginary^ would be very tiresome* He
has a singular incapacity for receiving at first hand, and
upon its own merits, any new idea. He pooh-poohed my
views on architecture, when I first put them before him ;
but some time afterwards Emerson praised them to him
very strongly, and the next time I saw Tennyson he praised
them strongly too, but without any allusion to his former
speech of them, I was with Tennyson and Thackeray a
day or two after T/s appointment to be Laureate,
Thackeray congratulated him, adding ' A Laureate indeed
without guile/ T. told me that the office had been pre-
viously offered to and declined by Rogers and Sheridan
Knowles/'

" Among Tennyson's works, the second of the two little
volumes published in 1842, contains, to my thinking, the
greater part of all that is essential in his writings. It bears
to them the same relation that Keats's little volume issued

<in 1820' does to all else he wrote. * In Memoriam ' and
'Maud' are poor poems, though they contain much ex*
quisite poetry. Probably no modern work has done so
much to undermine popular religion as ' In Memoriam/
Tennyson's best work, though in its way a miracle of grace
and finish, is never of quite the highest kind. It is not
! finished from within. Compare the finish of 'Kubla
Khan ' with that of the * Palace of Art.' "

" A. de Vere spent another evening here. He challenged
me to a public defence of my thesis (which I learned from
ilfiu) that there was little real feeling, much lesspassionTth
" Tennyson's poetry. We took *In Memoriam' for our
proofs, and, after examining one after one all his favourite
pieces, he was forced to conclude that they each and all
contained indications of consciousness, artifice, and other
qualities inconsistent with the existence of any very lively
flow of feeling at the time of writing."

Containing the Odes.

RELATIONS WITH TENNYSON 199

" I will let you have Tennyson's Play shortly. It is
better than I expected — for it is not weak. But it is quite
uninteresting. Every character is repulsive, and the senti- ^
mental themes, Mary's love for Philip and disappointment
ment at not bringing him an heir, wholly unattractive. The
moral is no better, simply the * No popery ' cry — the straw
at which Lord John Russell's, Gladstone's and so many
other drowning reputations have clutched in vain. I fancy
it will not serve the Laureate's purpose any better than it
has served Mr. Gladstone's. Surely there is no passion
which, when indulged, becomes so strong and so vile as the
love of popularity."

" I never saw any play nearly so dismal or ineffective as
Queen Mary. Though it has only been out a week or two,
the theatre was three parts empty, and what audience there
was seemed to be of the most snuffy kind. So deadly
stupid were they, that when Mary said * We are Queen of
England, sir, not Roman Emperor,' they did not catch the
grossly obvious applicability of the sentence to what is now
going on, until I began to clap and beat the floor with my
stick ; then it dawned upon a few ; and at last about half the
poor people caught the idea and clapped too ; and a gentle-
man behind me said to his ladies, ' That's because of the
Royal Titles Bill.' I thought of Dr. Vaughan's experience
— after going about the whole world — that the English
ranked in stupidity next to the negroes." '

^ Mr. Gosse was complaining that Tennyson had charged
him jfiso for a song called * The Throstle' printed in the
• New Review ' while Mr. Gosse was editing it C. P. re-
plied that he thought it very poor pay for such a Poem,
adding, he would not have written it himself for jCsoo."

V,

CHAPTER XIII

THE "children's GARLAND "

ABOUT 1 86 1 Patmore was invited by Messrs.
Macmlllan to edit a selection of poems suit-
able to children. Emily Patmore, whose
health, as has been stated, was then rapidly failing,
and who for some time past had been compelled to
confine herself to sedentary pursuits, was specially
qualified by her admirable judgment of poetry, to
which her husband repeatedly testifies, still more by
her sympathetic insight into the thoughts and feel-
ings of childhood, to assist him in his task. Patmore
records in his diary :

" Our evenings together in the selections for the * Child-
ren's Garland.' Her going to the Museum though she was
so weak."

They together determined to put the selections to
a practical test by reading poems to their children
and judging the eflfect. The eldest daughter, Emily
Honoria, then about eight years old, was the principal
subject of the experiment. She was from the first a
child of strong intelligence ; was no doubt already sen-
sitive to poetry, in which she subsequently showed by
her letters and verses special power both critical and
creative ; and — this must have been of even greater
value — she had an honest mind, and the habit of
expressing her opinions with freedom and candour.
Patmore, as is shown by his letters, regarded the
two Emilies as partners in his work; and in writing to
his daughter, speaks of the book as ** your Garland."

The result of this practical test was, as Patmore

THE "CHILDREN'S GARLAND" 201

records in the Preface, to exclude " nearly all verse
written expressly for children, and most of the poetry
written about children for grown up people." He had
the wisdom too to base the experiment on ** liking"
rather than '' understanding." Even of adult readers
the higher range of poetry does not always demand
full comprehension as a condition of being enjoyed ;
and children are more readily contented to take much
for granted as to sense, while they are often specially
alive to the magic of suggestion and rhythm. I ndeed,
with some of the highest achievements of lyrical
poetry — such for instance as " La Belle Dame Sans
Merci" — young and old seem to be on a common
level of full appreciation, based on a comprehen-
sion which neither is nor desires to be complete.

Woolner, who had already drawn a vignette for
the '* Golden Treasury," was commissioned to illus-
trate the title page. Patmore was delighted with
his drawing, and, years afterwards, when an illustrated
edition of the "Angel" was contemplated, en-
deavoured to press him into the service. This
later scheme however was never carried out, and
Woolner s drawing for the ** Garland " is the only
authorized illustration ever included in Patmore's
published work.

Though the selection was made on these sound
and sensible principles, it was not specially well re-
ceived by the critics and the public. A letter of Emily
Patmore's (printed above, p. 1 57), shows that she had
endeavoured to ascertain what was thought about it,
and had not received very satisfactory opinions from
her friends. After her death it was very unfavour-
ably reviewed in •' Eraser" by " A. K. H. B. " (Dr.
Boyd) in an article which bears the following title :
"Concerning Cutting and Carving, with some
Thoughts of Tampering with the Coin of the Realm."
(Eraser 67, 205, Feb. 1863). This article is interest-

202 COVENTRY PATMORE

ing to read for the curious revelation it gives of the
critic's method. It is clear that when ne first ap-
proached the book he was struck by various un-
expected readings of poems with which he was
acquainted through anthologies alone. Closer ex-
amination showed him that, in the majority of cases
in which Patmore s reading differed from that with
which he had been familiar, the anthologies were to
blame. This naturally gave occasion for a diatribe
against inaccuracy in transcription. Armed with
this very recently acquired knowledge, the critic
turns again to the " Garland " and succeeds in de-
tecting some few actual defects in the versions which
Patmore had given. This process is obvious to a
' careful reader of the critique ; but the average reader
is not careful ; and by him the general condemna-
tion of inaccuracy would be sure to be applied to Pat-
more, and an idea be left that the editor s work had
been slurred throughout. The same impression
would be fixed on a still larger number who would
know no more than that the very invidious title of
the essay was associated with Patmore's book.
Whatever may have been the writer's intention, the
result was eminently unfair ; and Patmore, no doubt
especially sensitive, on account of his recent bereave-
ment, to an attack upon a work in which his wife had
borne so large a part, felt and showed unusual re-
sentment. Woolner, also a partner in the work as
its illustrator, wrote a letter of sympathy, and being
a friend of J. A. Froude, the editor of ** Fraser,"
suggested an amende on the part of the magazine.
Patmore's answer is as follows :

" British Museum,

"February 17, 1863.

"My Dear Woolner,

"... The only effective answer to the Paper,
it seems to me, would be one which could not be made in

THE "CHILDREN'S GARLAND" 203

" Fraser " at least ; namely, an exposure of the trick by
which the writer's " first impressions " — which he confesses
to have been false — are made to be those which will be con-
veyed to almost every reader of the article.

"... I do not pretend to have taken my copies
always from the " Authors' Editions " ; as that would have
involved an amount of time and expense which would have
made the work impossible.

" That it was done in most cases is admitted by A. K. H. B.
himself, and this adherence, when practicable under the
circumstances, to Authors' Editions, is the most that could
be expected of the Editor of such a collection.

"... I shall look however into these two points
further, for my own satisfaction, but I remain of my former
opinion, that I am not called upon to notice the attacks of
a man who writes like A. K. H. B.

" Ever yours,

"Coventry Patmore."

Woolner took the matter up warmly, and remon-
strated with P>oude on the injustice of the article.
He writes, Feb. 19, 1863 :

" It is clear that we have so impressed Froude with the
blackguardism of that article that he is disposed to make
gracious amends, and, as he is a most noble fellow, I am
sure that doing so will be a delight to him."

The •* gracious amends " were evidently meant to
be a favourable review of Patmore's poems ; and
Woolner asks him to name some one who would ex-
ecute this friendly task effectively. He writes :

*• I should not ask either Palgrave or W. Rossetti ; for,
though they both admire your works, yet it is in a way
different to the feeling that one entertains for Tennyson
and the other for Browning ; and, for an article to do much
good in matters poetical, it must be writ by a real enthusiast,
carefully guarding himself against any extravagance of
praise. I fancy Gamett is something like the man, though
I do not know his writings much : . . . Aubrey de Vere
perhaps would be better."

Froude also seems to have written to Patmore to

204 COVENTRY PATMORE

the same effect But Patmore declined in any way
to instigate a favourable review or even to name a
writer who could be trusted to do justice to his work.
Froude writes to Patmore regretting that he will not
fall in with his suggestion, and disclaiming responsi-
bility, as editor, for A. K. H. B. s article, on the ground
that it is by a ** known man " and duly accredited.

The following letter shows Woolner s deep
sympathy with Patmore in this annoyance, and in
the sorrow with which it was so closely associated.

"WelbeckSt,

"Feb. 23, 1863.

"My Dear Patmore,

" I read your letter to Froude, and thought it most
satisfactory as a statement of your notion of the critic's
cunning and of Froude's own courtesy. I sent it on to him.

" With regard to the subject of my last note, I fear that I
did not make my meaning sufficiently clear : I did not wish
you to attempt to influence Froude in any way : my sugges-
tion was between you and me only, and I merely wanted
you to name a writer who would do you justice, because I
could not think of one myself ; and after you had done this
I meant on my own responsibility, without any reference to
you, to have requested of Froude permission that such a
paper might have been printed. I heartily agree with you
that a man must live by his own law, but I do not think
that this would have in any way infringed upon yours : you
must remember that, however well disposed Froude may be
to give you a good article, how is he to do so if he knows
no man who can or will do it properly ? It was to avoid this
dilemma for him that I asked you to assist in naming a
person.

" You think far too highly of any trifling service that I
wish to render you, and are much too modest in thinking
that you have no claims. To have lived a simple dignified
life, thoroughly eschewing the gaudy vulgarities that
delight so many ; at great sacrifices to have steadily, through
sharp difficulties, pursued one object that you thoroughly
believed would benefit your fellow-creatures, and to have
done this with infinite temptations for luring you into an

THE -CHILDREN'S GARLAND" 205

easier path resisted, seems to me to constitute very strong
claims upon anyone who has been able to recognize the
worth of such a life as yours. I can only hope that the
unknown enemies who fill the press may have their minds
changed, and not bespatter your idea' so thickly with mud
that the public cannot see what it is and how it is
fashioned.

'* I do not marvel at the thought which haunts your life.
Though the same vivid happiness that you have known you
can hardly know again, the present natural gloom will give
way to something far different and better. I have seen,
after some almost painfully magnificent sunset, a passage of
darkness followed by light transcendently tender ; and it
has seemed that the pathetic beauty I saw there hanging
over the mysterious earth came on me with even a dearer
sympathy, gave my spirit a sense of deeper rest, and more
spoke to me hints of immortality than when I had gazed
upon its fullest glory ; and, although my spirit may have
been overcast with mournfulness, yet the pathos held within
itself something more sacred and sweeter than joy. So that
in my vision I see you, far years to come, amid a rich
har\'est from your labours, and beholding your children
flourishing like young vines around you. I write in tropes
and images, but you will know my meaning, so you must
cheer up and not — or try not to — think too much of what
drags with such strong temptation. I most deeply and
warmly sympathize with all your trials and grief, and trust
that time will deal gently with you.

" Ever yours truly,

"Thos. Woolner."

Notwithstanding this and other attacks in the
press, the "Children's Garland" made its way
steadily with the public. It became and continues
popular with children, and has proved to many an
excellent initiation in poetic study. At a much later
date It might have had a more extensive circulation,
had Patmore been willing to make one small change.
In 1882, the School Board for London selected the
'• Garland " as a suitable prize for children on the
condition that one poem, " The Outlandish Knight,"

2o6 COVENTRY PATMORE

was omitted. This ballad was objected to (not, as
I think, wholly without reason), as being unsuitable
to childhood. Patmore was asked by the publishers
to substitute for it another of equal length. He
however, considering that Messrs. Macmillan had
already had too good a bargain with the publication,
wrote them the following letter :

"Hastings,

"July 24th, 1882.

" Messrs. Macmillan and Co.,
" Grcntlemen,

" As my time is fully occupied, and as it would take
a good deal of research to alter a selection which was made
with great care ; and as, moreover, I have had no interest
in the book since the sale of the third thousand, I can
neither make the suggested change myself, nor consent
that it should be made by anyone else.

" I am, Gentlemen,
"Yours faithfully,

" Coventry Patmore."

The '* Garland " therefore is still published in its
original form.

The only other literary work on which Patmore
seems to have been engaged at this period- was to
edit, in conjunction with Mr. (afterwards Sir Henry)
Taylor, a selection from Mr. Aubrey de Vere's
poems. This was issued in 1 864 under the title, *' The
Infant Bridal and other poems.'* Mr. de Vere writes
of it:

** I had myself no part in it except that of giving a very
grateful consent to the undertaking. The selection was
wholly theirs, and a better one could not have been made
from my poems at that time published. I feel very
grateful to the two poets who had thus given so much of
their valuable time to the illustration of my poetry, thus
giving it the best chance of success which it could have
had."

The following letter refers to this joint compila-

THE '•CHILDREN'S GARLAND" 207

tion, and is of some literary interest, as it gives
Patmore's views on punctuation.

"14, Percy St., Bedford Square,

"Feb. 13, 1864.

" Mv Dear Mr. Taylor,

" As I leave England in the beginning of the week,
I have directed the rest of the proofs to be sent to you
alone. I will mention that almost the only point,
hitherto, in which your most careful revision has not
anticipated my corrections is one, perhaps, in which we

difTcr on principle. Dashes ( ) are absolutely necessary

in dramatic verse, and when dialogues are introduced into

other forms of poetry ; but I have the strongest repugnance 1

to them in lyrical and narrative verse, and have proved my !

fidelity to this principle by not admitting more than two or

three (I think) in all the verse I have ever written. My

notion is that absolutely perfect language ought to be able

to do without any punctuation, which is only a concession -^ -^ 1

made to that diffiadty which it is the glory of the poet to ^*"f '^ '* ^

overcome. Now the dash is an immense addition to this (uSi^ Kf^

unmetrical looseness of language, and a poet who uses it v>- ts.e«^^

often (which Mr. A. de Vere does not) seems to me to be <

burning his gunpowder in a saucer instead of in the barrel / ^<jm<'" v-o

of a well-bonded verse. ,. ^

" I think I mentioned this to Mr. A. de Vere, and he ^

agreed with me. I have therefore ventured to put out the

when its effect could be got as well, or nearly as

well, by stops. This liberty however I have only ventured
to take in some few cases in addition to those in which you
have made the same correction.

** Yours sincerely,

" Coventry Patmoke."

Of Patmore's life during the eighteen months
which elapsed between his wife's death and the
journey to Rome made early in 1864, there is not
much else to record. He gave up the cottage at
Hampstcad at which she died, and returned to the
rooms in Percy Street, within easy reach of the
Museum, where they had lived during the greater

\O^M

2o8 COVENTRY PATMORE

part of her last illness. The children were sent to
a school at Finchley, where Patmore visited them
almost daily. He was able too to receive his second
son Tennyson, who was at the Blue-coat school, for
holidays. The letters to his eldest daughter (printed
in vol. ii.) throw some light on his manner of life
at this period.

Not long after his wife's death, Patmore took his
daughter Emily to visit William Barnes, the Dorset-
shire poet. Patmore had always been a warm
admirer of Barnes's poems, had reviewed them
frequently, and done much to establish them in
popular favour. A friendship between the two poets
had been formed by correspondence, and Barnes had
pressed Patmore to visit him during his wife's life-
time; but he had been unable to leave her in her
precarious state of health. Shortly afterwards he,
with the same daughter, paid a visit to Mr. and Mrs.
James Marshall, at Headingley, near Leeds, where
he left Emily to continue the visit. She then joined
her younger sisters at their school.

In February 1864 Patmore started for Rome.
His journey thither and his impressions of the city
are fully described in the letters which he wrote to
Mrs. Jackson, and these are further supplemented by
others addressed to Dr. Garnett (see vol. ii.).

Mrs. Jackson, as has already been indicated, was
an intimate friend of the Patmores. It was to her
house that the children were taken when their
mother's death was imminent : she had been un-
wearied in showing him sympathy in his bereave-
ment ; and he started on his holiday under promise
to write to her frequently, a promise which he fully
redeemed.

This expedition, undertaken with no further
motive than his need of change and his wish to rejoin
his friend Aubrey de Vere, resulted in his conversion

THE "CHILDREN'S GARLAND" 209

to the Roman Church and his marriage to Miss
Byles. In my sketch of her which follows I give a
fuller account of both these events ; but I may here
introduce Mr. de Vere's account of Patmore's state of
feeling when they met in Rome. He writes :

"Not very long after this signal success (that of the
* Angel '), the great sorrow of his life fell upon Patmore in
the death of his wife. She was a woman of a strong nature,
great beauty, and high abilities, and had met bravely all
Uie difficulties connected with a small income, assisting
him as few could have done by her energy and her cheer-
fulness. He in his turn ministered to her during the
whole of a long and hopeless illness, with a devotadness
which shrank from no toil.

" When all was over, his grief was in proportion to his
love, and seemed to increase every day. I was then in
Rome; and he came thither later; but Rome, at least
through material glories and classic recollections, did little
to assuage his grief."

Mr. de Vere gives further evidence of the depth
of Patmore's sorrow for his wife, and concludes :

" It was during this visit that Patmore became a Catholic ;
but the subject had been in his thoughts for several years."

Patmore's conversion occurred almost simultane-
ously with his eng^ement to the lady who became
his second wife. The reladon which the one event
bore to the other is more fully set forth in the next
chapter.

CHAPTER XIV

MARY PATMORE

MARIANNE CAROLINE BYLES,born
June 23, 1822, was the second daughter
of James Byles, of Bowden Hall, Glouces-
tershire, and of Judith his wife. Mr. Byles, a cousin
of Mr. Justice Byles, and a serjeant-at-law, died when
his daughter was thirteen. His widow went to reside
at Lavington in Sussex, occupyingthe house of Bishop
Wilberforce. A niece of hers, Miss Emma Eisdell,
who was considerably older than the daughter, came
to live with Mrs. Byles and to take charge of the
young girl's education. At Lavington they made
the acquaintance of Archdeacon (afterwards Cardinal)
Manning, who was then Vicar of Lavington-with-
Graffham. He soon came to take a special interest
in Miss Byles, giving her instruction in matters both
spiritual and secular, among others in drawing.
He obtained great influence over her : they became
much attached to each other, and it was thought by
her friends that, had he continued in the Anglican
Communion, she would have become his second wife.
Any such prospect was of course brought to an end
when Manning took orders in the Roman Catholic
Church ; nor is it likely that it will ever now be
known whether any actual engagement had been
formed, nor how far her friends' anticipation of the
marriage was justified. Certain it is that their inti-
mate friendship and his religious influence over her
were maintained till her death ; equally certain, as

4^ /'

^

f

r^

Pu

1

— ^

\ '■'.'

■:J

^

I

i-

J'

MARIANNE CAROLINE PATMORE.
From pencil drawing by J. Brett, R.A., 1871.

VOL. I.

To face p, aio.

MARY PATMORE 211

is shown by letters which Patmore wrote to the
Cardinal, that he had during her life been ignorant
of every rumour of the kind.

Miss Byles continued in the Anglican Church for
two years after Manning's secession, when, after a
severe and painful struggle, she determined to follow
him, and was receiv^ into the Communion by
Father Brownhill, S. J., the same priest who had
performed the office for him. Her conversion proved,
as she had anticipated, a heavy blow to her mother,
who, nevertheless, as her daughter always gratefully
acknowledged, showed no diminution of love for her,
and made every arrangement, at whatever sacrifice
to herself, that would enable her daughter to fulfil
the duties of her religion. Mary Patmore used how-
ever to tell, with a sense of resentment not unre-
lieved by humour, of certain slights which she had
undergone at the hands of others of less tolerant
disposition, — how for example an Anglican clergy-
man, calling on her mother, had refused to notice
her at all, until, on leaving, he asked her '' when she
might be expected to turn Mohammedan ? "

After her mother's death she and her cousin. Miss
Eisdell, lived together, and spent much of their time
in Continental travel. They were in Rome in 1864,
when Patmore, who already contemplated joining
the Roman Catholic Church, arrived there, and soon
made their acquaintance. He has recorded in his
religious autobiography (vol. ii.) the impression made
on him by Miss Byles, his proposal to her, the dif-
ficulty which seemed likely to prevent the marriage,
and how it was removed. It is however fair to him
and to her to record that his conversion, all but ac-
complished when they first met, was not directly due
to any project of marriage, though personal attraction
may have done something towards precipitating the
change. He writes, *' I had never before behdd so

212 COVENTRY PATMORE

beautiful a personality/ and this beauty seemed to
be the pure effluence of Catholic Sanctity." She
was indeed the first to whom he announced his
reception into the Roman Catholic Church.

Still less was his proposal influenced by any idea
of pecuniary advantage. Patmore had assumed that,
of the two ladies who kept house together, the elder
was the possessor of the wealth, and the younger a
more or less impecunious companion. (This im-
pression was such as the quality of generous self-
effacement, manifest to all who knew her, would
almost inevitably produce.) Indeed the knowledge
which had to be imparted to him later, that she
possessed a considerable fortune, came as an unwel-
come revelation, and almost led to a breach of the
engagement. On first learning this, Patmore quitted
Rome in some distress, but was persuaded by friends
whom they had in common to condone the embarrass-
ing condition.

As soon as the arrangements for the marriage
were definitely fixed. Miss Byles urged Patmore to
return to England and prepare his children for the
approaching change. She appears to have welcomed
the idea of taking charge of his six children, and to
have resolved from the first to be a true mother to
them.

During the separation which ensued, she wrote
him long letters, telling him how the news of her
betrothal had been received by her friends ; how
Cardinal Manning had felt some disappointment at
the sacrifice of her "vocation" (she seems to have

^ Lest this should to any readers seem to be somewhat unfair
to Emily Augusta Patmore, it should be noted that it is char-
acteristic of Patmore, in his liberal use of superlatives, to ex-
press by them enthusiasm rather than comparison. The phrase
may be taken in this sense here, and a similar interpretation
should be given to many other passages where such encomiums
occur.

MARY PATMORE 213

contemplated taking the veil), but had been recon-
ciled to the change by recognizing the " high char-
acter " of her future husband ; how some friends had
welcomed the idea of children coming under her
charge, and others had considered the burden likely
to prove heavy for her; but how all foresaw her
happiness in the union. It was at this time too
that she first made acquaintance with Patmore's
poetry. She writes to him her comments on it :

** It makes me laugh aloud when I think of my sitting
down to mark the lines I wish you would make higher in
your ' Angel/ hoping that you, by implication, would take in
how much I thought of all the rest — how perfect in its way
it seems to be. For one thing, you have that very unusual
gift, which I admire so, of saying so much in a few words.
Then you strike off the very peculiarity of the thing you
touch, like your ' languid ' little chestnut leaves ; then you
catch tAe effect among all others a certain thing should
produce, as when

* A blinding flash
And close, coinstantaneous cnsh
Humbled the Soul."

Then, if I may venture to say so, you touch the most de-
licate subjects with a purity which leaves scarcely a word
to make a child's innocence wonder.

** A woman reading it would feel flattered ; then, at times,
provoked ; for it is a shame for you to have been initiated
into a thing or two quite solely feminine."

In one of her last letters before their marriage she
writes:

*' I know that I cannot be the wife to you and the mother
to her darlings that she was ; but, God helping me, you
shall have my whole devotion, and may He [make good]
my incapacity."

The marriage, after being postponed for a short
period, which she required for makmg full disposition

* Quoted from "A thunder shower," "Taxnerton Church Tower."
The passage is introduced again in " Victories of Love."

214 COVENTRY PATMORE

of her property (she wisely judged that this should
be done beforehand), was celebrated by Cardinal
Manning on July iSth 1864 at the Church of St. Mary
of the Angels, Bays water ; and, after a short interval,
she embarked on her new duties as stepmother with
a steady determination to replace for the children the
mother they had lost, and to follow in the fullest
detail the instructions which she had left These
duties were fulfilled by her to the end of her life,
none the less devotedly because by character and by
education she was less obviously fitted for the posi-
tion than many might have been. By nature she
was exceptionadly reserved, having at command no
such ease or readiness of manner as prove, at any
rate in the first approach, specially attractive to
young people. Moreover, having been herself prac-
tically an only child, tended with over-anxious care
by her mother and cousin, she came to her new
duties with a nervous sense of responsibility, with
ideas too which were in some degree old-fashioned
— conditions that must have made her position
onerous to her and possibly somewhat trying to her
young charges. Still, her complete and unselfish
devotion could not long remain unappreciated ; and
in spite of occasional jars, which to her sensitive
nature were almost crushing, she soon won her way
with the children, and had her full reward in their
deep affection.

The same reserve doubtless impeded the renewal
of Patmore's former friendships and the formation
of new ones. The change of creed certainly gave
offence to some : the second marriage was, to those
who had known and appreciated Emily Patmore, astill
greater obstacle. With such friends Mary Patmore
must have started at a disadvantage ; nor was she
qualified by manner toovercome prejudice. Itwasonly
those who had special opportunities of understanding

MARY PATMORE 215

her, or were able to see below the surface, who could
appreciate her really noble character. Her reserve
was however for the most part insuperable, and
proved, as I believe, a far greater burden to her
than even to those who were most discouraged by it.
She seemed to feel special gratitude to friends who
could break through the barrier, and, I have no
doubt, welcomed the tone adopted by Bryan Waller
Procter (" Barry Cornwall"), who, with the privilege
of age, wrote her " flirtatious " letters, specimens of
which, a few out of many, are printed below. One or
two very much younger friends, who succeeded in
establishing with her relations of playful intimacy,
were among her special favourites. But whenever cir-
cumstances put it within her power to give sympathy
or help to those who were in sorrow or sickness, the
wealth of her nature was revealed, flowing, as it
seemed, in richer abundance for the habitual restraint.
She might be compared to one who, possessing large
means and equal generosity, fails to carry with him
small coin, and can respond only to the more serious
calls on his good- will.

As I recall her, Mary Patmore, though she had
regular features and a good figure, could scarcely be
called beautiful. Her manner and movements never-
theless gave an impression of mild stateliness and
not ungraceful dignity, as well as of perfect refine-
ment. She was a good musician, and played the
piano with taste and execution, though no less
averse to display in this than in other matters.
She had received a good literary education, and her
standard of taste was independent and high. The
more domestic side of her training was less complete,
and it is related that Patmore, soon after their
marriage, was seen teaching her to darn, an accom-
plishment which he had learnt from his grandmother
m boyhood. Being exceedingly nervous, she was in

2i6 COVENTRY PATMORE

constant fear of the big dogs which Patmore loved
to have about. If she were joining the children in
a walk, they would say, "We must chain up the
dogs. Mama is coming out," She was always
diffident and moderate in her remarks, but seemed
to me, though gently deprecating, keenly to enjoy
her husband's forcible statements, eccentricities, and
paradoxical originality, in which indeed I frequently
suspected that he indulged the more freely in anti-
cipation of her mild and but half serious protests.
The superficial contrast between the two was extreme,
but served mainly, as I think, to give zest to their
deep sympathy in matters of greater import.

As the family grew older, some settling elsewhere,
and those who remained at home becoming less de-
pendent on her, she reverted to her former intention,
and, so far as circumstances allowed, laid out her life
as a " religious " might do, assigning regular hours
to prayer, contemplation, and good works. She did
not however cease to take a deep interest in politics,
and on occasions exerted herself actively in the cause
of Conservatism. She also wrote a work on the
" Rosary," and shortly before her death, commenced
a translation of ** St. Bernard on the Love of God,"
which was afterwards completed and published by
her husband.^

It is difficult to estimate precisely the extent and
nature of her influence on Patmore's thought and
writing. Her seniority in the Church would, at least
for a time, have given her a special hold upon his
opinions on ecclesiastical matters, and she was able
to instruct him in ceremonial observances of which
he had little previous knowledge ; nor had he much
aptitude for them. Certainly her wish must have
been to keep his work at the highest level of ortho-
doxy and of spiritual intensity. In a letter to him
' Kegan Paul and Co., 1881.

MARY PATMORE 217

she speaks of " The Wedding Sermon " as " not so
high in some parts as St Thomas k Kempis, than
whom nobody ought to be lower, to my thinking."
Nevertheless it was not till quite late in her life that
she obtained any genuine insight into the spiritual
meaning of the " Odes." In Church matters, though
by nature thoroughly large-minded and liberal, she
was, probably owing to Cardinal Manning's direc-
tion, more " Ultramontane " than Patmore natur-
ally was, or than later he showed himself to be. I
remember for instance that he, during her lifetime,
appeared to share her support of the "Temporal
power/* which in later years he ceased to advocate.
The differences however both of temperament
and of opinion in religious questions were slight.
She enjoyed her husband's full confidence in such
matters, especially those of the deepest import, and
he thoroughly appreciated and relied on her saintly
character.

She died suddenly on April 12, 1880.

Memorials of her are strangely sparse. There
are a few letters to the children which they have pre-
served, concerned almost exclusively with motherly
advice, with news of their pets, and such other
matters as are of interest to the young. A diary too
is preserved, in which she has recorded her rules and
resolutions for self-discipline and conduct

The following letter from her husband shows how
fidelity to the dead wife was accommodated with the
new relation, and tallies precisely with the thought
embodied in the Ode " Tired Memory."

"Calverly Hotel, Tunbridgc Wells,
"Feb. 6th, [1867].

"Dear Wife,

** Here is a snowdrop from the garden where I walked
and sat, two years and a half ago, with my bride of a day.
" I know your dear heart would glow with pleasure if you

2i8 COVENTRY PATMORE

^ could see how mine has glowed with the thought of the

• \ ' happiness I have had and have in you. I asked last night,

/ i '' '^ / of Her * by whose intercession I think it was that I obtained

( / y^" (*^^ y^" know it was thejirsf pra)^r I ever offered to

. . ^ y- ^ *^ her) that two loves and two possessions might survive death,

' y '' L and not in any way contradict each other. Why not?

: ^ " Believe me, I could not love you more had I never loved

c another. My dear, I may say

" I could not love thee, dear, so ntuch.
Loved I not * Honor' * more.

"C. P."

The following extracts are made from letters of
Mary Patmore's, written about the death of a friend
of hers to one who had been a closer friend even
than the writer. The person to whom the letters
are addressed thinks it fair to have it recorded that
neither the lady nor the child who had died before
her were Roman Catholics. The letters are valuable,
not merely as illustrating the writer's character, but
as showing how doctrines which are, in their crude,
dogmatic form, abhorrent to many, are, by those
initiated into the higher sphere of thought, both
spiritualized and brought into harmony with the best
feelings and hopes of humanity.

Much of the thought contained in them is likely
to remind the reader of Newman's ** Dream of
Gerontius.'* I think that the letters will bear the
comparison, as they make up in tenderness what is
lost by absence of poetical expression.

I have little doubt that much of Mary Patmore's
correspondence was of similar quality, but the ex-
traordinary self-effacement and reticence which was
characteristic of her in life seems fated to attend her
memory, and these are the only letters of the kind
which I have been able to obtain.

* The Blessed Virgin Mary.

* Honoria, the heroine of "The Angel," as identified with his
wife Emily.

MARY PATMORE 219

^ What a bleak and dreary day for you to take your
leave of her — laying her beside her darling ... I think
the most eager gush of tender feeling I ever felt from her
was when she found that my whole soul and faith shrunk
from the hard way in which another had treated her joyful
hope and trust .... They little know.

« • • • •

*" I shall never hear all I wish. It is one of the many
things we have to bear that the curtain falls just at the
moment when to one's love the interest is highest. Hence-
forth one knows nothing except that — God is Love — and
that a spirit so loving — all love — brightly, ardently, tenderly
loving, like hers who will never rejoin us again, must be
gathered to Him — must always have been an object of his
delight.

« • » • «

" What a sad, disappointed, uncompleted life for a spirit
so enthusiastic. People are very dreadful in these days,
and seem to me to believe and disbelieve in the strangest
capricious manner — therefore I do not know at all how you
think. Afy whole soul is with the faith that at that beautiful
bedside whence the soul you loved went away, it went to a
tenderer love than any mortal love can be — was judged by
love, was found full of love, was excused any and all de-
fects for the love's sake that would have made them all up,
Aad it knaivn^ was passed on with reassuring reviving love
to a place in the realm of love where it is safe, with the
consciousness of everlasting safety, after a sight of the
Eternal Beauty looking on her in love which makes the
present time an eager prayer to be made fit to comprehend
the joy of which she had a taste, an eager craving for the
purification and enlightenment which shall enable her to
enjoy as the perfect^ Blessed do. For who can suppose
themselves at their going out from this world capable of
enjoying the bliss of heaven ? It is enough and supreme
felicity, if when we die we can get smiled on by God : that
once secured, all is safe — all is happy. Perhaps at first in
a very imperfect, suflfering way; but who could not cry
• More, more ! * for everything which was the way to the
enjoyment of that Love and Beauty, too little cared for per-
haps on earth, which, at the moment when death seemed to
bring the extreme humiliation, shone forth upon the soul

220 COVENTRY PATMORE

you wept for and revealed what, if we could iiiu^;uie now,
we could not fail to live for.

** The excessive longing to be fitted to enjoy must amount
to suffering-- but suffering so to be envied. No tongue can
tell how full of joy, of peace, of hope, of rapturous remem-
brance, [was] that moment of delist when we thought all
was darkness, but when the first glimpse and taste were
given of the Beauty, Love and Bliss which are now certain
and coming nearer and growing sweeter for all Eternity.

^ And w^o can imagine the longing for all she loves to
share the same and be for ever safe. How sure her prajfers
for all she loved : how she will press them for her beloved
on earth whose blank and desolation she well knows, and
whose love she can now requite — and all whose wants and
cares she knows.

" I do not know how I have ventured to write all this to
you . . . partly I have had to write in hast^ and what
would come was what my heart was fiill of— partly I have
had to think much of heavy sorrows lately, very hopeless,
and it was a relief to dwell on the thot^t of the present
and the future of one whose love seemed to be the whole of

her, and what more akin to heaven ?

# # • # #

^ As I go over in heart the little I know of the last days
and weel^, I feel how wild must have been the burst of
hope, the possibility of life and all it wanted, and how
desperate tJie crush of all ending so wofully.

" And none can bring any healing — there is not, that I
know of, a word of comfort All one can offer is to feel
with and to pray for such a sorrow.

« » « « «

"Still with God there is soothing and courage and the
gift of the Paraclete.

Consolator optime,
Dulcis hospes animas,
Dulce refrigerium.

In labore requies.
In aestu temperies,
In fletu solatium.

O Lux beadssima,
Reple cordis indma
Tuorum fidelium.

MARY PATMORE 221

• • « « »

" Some day you will talk to me as you say, and tho' you
will find me a dumb listener you will feel sure that I am not
an insensible one."

The following are some of Mr. Procter's letters to
her.

•'Wednesday, Oct 23, [1865].

" Dear Mrs. Patmore,

** Many thanks for your kind vinous message. On
the 2 1 St of next month (November) I shall be 78, if I live
till that day, and should you in the superabundance of your
kindness send me two bottles— observe 2 only^ I will drink
your health in a glass of Madeira. Perhaps — if your
husband is in the woods — you will send me a bit of your
heart also. (I enclose you a large piece of mine.) I can
scarcely write, my dear Mrs. Patmore, although I feel
impelled to say more than your husband might approve.
(But he is in the woods and we will forget him.)

*' Although I flash about like a dashing young octo-
genarian, I am (in prose reality) but a poor old creature,
who am now preparing to taste a little opiate to allay the
pain that encounters me almost every day. With a hundred
kind wishes, pray believe me now and at all times,

" Your very sincere

"B. W. Procter."

" 3«i Weymouth Street,

"Nov. 23, 1868.
"My dear PAT.MORIA,

" Many thanks for your kind letter and little liquid
present I would address you as M.C. but I do not know
what M.C. means — I have thought over every name and now
can come to only one conclusion, that it must be " My
Charmer" (Mr. Patmore is in the woods).

Sincerely I am grateful for your remembering me. Yes,
on Sunday I entered my 80th year. I can't speak, or write,
or walk, or eat, but I can love the dear M.C. still. Shall I
ever see you again ? I hope so, and that you will not go
among the winged sister-angels yet My dear Mrs. Patmore
I often think of you, and I am always

* Your very sincere

"B. W. Procter."

222 COVENTRY PATMORE

" 32, Weymouth Street,

" Wednesday Morning (I believe).

" My dear Mrs. Patmore,

" Although I am ill — I have been in my bedroom
for the last fortnight — I am glad to hear that you meditate
Xmas pleasure. For me — I cough all night and cannot
eat or drink or be merry. I have tried all &ings — I at last
have thought of the mill where old scarecrows such as I are
ground into juvenile powder. Will you have me, then?
Let me know when and where you are, in London I mean.
Give my kind regards to your husband. He is, I feel, very
happy with youth and health and children and the Hama-
dryads, but chiefly with somebody whom I will barely
hint at

" My dear Mrs. Patmore, when you go to sleep to-night,
think that I am now as always,

" Your very sincere

"B. W. Procter."

" 32f Weymouth Street,

"Saturday, Sept 23, 1871.

"My dear Mrs. Patmore,

"All (and many) thanks to you for the Honey.
SvieGXsfram the Sweet are always very welcome. I wish I
could send you some honey— even some sweet verses, but I
am old and good for nothing — I can scarcely write, and
speaking is a thing quite beyond me. They send me out
with a nurse. I have come from the Park with just intellect
enough left to read your letter (as Patmore is by you I
must not say your dear letter). In return I send you a
thousand kind words and wishes. Pray accept them.
Although they are not worth the postage. Therefore I
pay it.

" I hope you and all you care about are well and happy.
I am dreadfully old, incapable as you see even to thank
you for your kindness and goodness. I go on not quite
foolish (as that word is now used), but utterly unable to say
or to write half what I wish. If I live till the 21st of
November I shall be 84 ! ! ! Pray think of me now and
then, and pray believe I always think of you.

" Your very sincere (and affectionate)

"B. W. Procter."

CHAPTER XV

THE POET AS MAN OF BUSINESS

FOR some time after his second marriage Pat-
more retained his rooms in Percy Street, near
the British Museum, his wife and children
settling at Epsom until a house could be found for the
whole party. As this dual arrangement proved incon-
venient, he took lodgings at Hampstead, where they
could all be together, and not much later they moved
to Bowden Lodge, Highgate. Patmore had always
had a preference for the northern suburbs of London,
and his earlier correspondence mentions a variety of
places, all in the same region : Kentish Town,
Finchley, Hendon, Fortis Green, Hampstead, had
each, for longer or shorter periods during his first
wife's lifetime, provided a home for the family. It
was his intention to settle permanently at Highgate,
which was both healthy and sufficiently near to his
work and to his London friends.

The younger members of his family retain pleasant
recollections of this home. Their father, who had
always loved to have animal life about him, was now
better able to indulge his taste, and at once set up
an aviary of rare and beautiful birds. It was a de*
light to the children to see him, on his return from
London, produce a bag from which some new
specimen would flutter into the cage.

The collection soon came to contain some sixty
birds, which somehow managed to live together on
fairly amicable terms. He took also to keeping large

224 COVENTRY PATMORE

dogs, for which he had always had a fancy. These
cost him considerably more than their food ; for on
one occasion one of them actually caused some
trifling injury to a child, for which Patmore gave
compensation : from that time stories of the ferocity
of his dogs were constantly reported to him, and any
poor neighbour in want of half-a-crown found an
easy means of obtaining it. His children remember
too a little dormouse which made its home in the
inkstand on his study table. It used, they say, to
sip the ink, which, as the little animal lived for many
years, may be assumed to have agreed with it It
would run about his writing-table and sit for hours
on the glasses of his candlesticks watching him at his
work. His next change of residence gave him the
opportunity of indulging his love for animals on a
more extensive scale.

In 1866, as I have already stated (p. 75), the
weakness of the lung which had long troubled him
became more threatening, and obliged him to give
up his Museum work and live in the country. He
was not long in finding an estate, or rather two con-
tiguous estates, in Sussex, his favourite county.

The property contained nearly four hundred
acres, and was divided by the high road into almost
equal parts. It is situated about four miles from
Uckfield, on the borders of Ashdown Forest and a
short distance from Crowborough, a hill once covered
with timber which is said to have been used up for
smelting purposes. On each portion of the estate
was a residence, the one a Tudor manor-house, the
other a farm-house of Georgian date, to which had
been added a new stuccoed front containing the best
rooms. The Tudor dwelling was occupied by the
farmer, whom Patmore did not wish to disturb. He
therefore determined to make the more modem
building his abode, to use the land attached to it as

THE MAN OF BUSINESS 225

pleasure-grounds and home farm, and to leave the
other portion for the occupant to manage as tenant.
The land with which Patmore had to deal is of great
natural beauty, which however had never been turned
to full account. The house stood at some distance
from and slightly above a depression which carried
a small trickle of water, while at the lower end of
the ground was a long wooded dell with about half
a mile of trout-stream at the bottom. The house,
though it possessed in the older parts some attractive
features, was hampered by outbuildings, which were
objectionable on sanitary as well as on aesthetic
grounds. A pile of badly-built stabling choked the
principal front, and the old farm-buildings were
placed close behind the house, which the farmyard
actually adjoined.

Patmore's purchase had therefore brought him face
to face with a fairly complex practical task, and gave
him an opportunity of showing whether the poet and
mystic could so deal with a landed estate as to
justify the phrenologist's assertion (see p. 43) that
he possessed the business faculty no less than the
poetic.

The problem before him was to make his house
healthy, habitable, and architecturally pleasing ; to
convert the land adjoining it from its aspect of a
somewhat neglected farm into the suitable setting of
a gentleman's residence ; to master all the details of
agricultural management, game-preserving, and the
duties of a landlord ; and to do all this with extreme
economy, so that each step taken might enhance the
value of the estate by more than the expenditure.

A full account of his proceedings is c^iven in a
little book which he published in 1886 called " How
I Managed and Improved my Estate," to which the
reader is referred for a fuller account than I can
compass here. I shall content myself by recording

I. Q

226 COVENTRY PATMORE

briefly some of the more important features of his
scheme.

The first matter with which Patmore had to deal
was the improvement of the house. It was essential
that the stables and farm buildings should be re-
moved to a greater distance; nor was it possible for
him, with his cultivated taste for architecture, to
rest content with the jerry-built stucco structure
which dominated and partly concealed the older and
more attractive portion of the house. He determined
therefore to remodel and enlarge this later addition,
and asked Mr. Bentley, who, as he characteristic-
^ ally remarked, was " the only architect who knew
ore of architecture than I did myself," to furnish a
design for a new front The style adopted was the
later Gothic, with some leaning towards a French
type in the detail ; the character is broad, simple,
and somewhat ascetic. The work was at once put
in hand at an estimated expenditure of some £yso.
Patmore had never been made to realize that the re-
building of the front involved a new roof and much
remodelling of the interior, and this supplementary
work raised the necessary expenditure to over;^3,ooo.
This would have run to a much larger figure but for
his personal enterprise. The first method which
occurred to him for reducing the expense was to
raise the stone upon the spot. I may give here his
own account of his essay in quarrying :

" The house stood upon a rock, and the farm-yard close
by was entirely paved with the smooth living rock ; but all
experts, quarrymen and others, assured me that stone fit
for fine masonwork was never found near the surface. . . .
Having always, however, been suspicious of experts, I re-
solved to try. The experiment would cost about /^lO, and
if it succeeded it might save me a thousand.

" Accordingly I had two square shafts, each about four
feet deep, and large enough to admit a man sitting with his

THE MAN OF BUSINESS 227

stone-saw, sunk in the solid rock, leaving between them a
clear block of about three or four feet wide and six apart
The stone-sawyer, sitting in one hole with room for the end
of his saw in the other, sawed down the sides of the great
mass between the shafts : the block was then loosened by
wedges from its bed, and brought up to the top with much
difficulty and labour, by the insertion of wedge upon wedge,
and wooden block upon wooden block, each insertion rais-
ing the stone perhaps half an inch at a time.

" After about a fortnight's work the great block stood clear
out. Its bare sides, almost polished by the saw, did not
show a single flaw or * bed ' ; the experts pronounced it
the finest stone that had been seen in that part of Sussex ;
and that they did not exaggerate much, was afterwards
proved by the fact that, as long as my quarry was open, the
stone was bought, at almost any price I chose to name, by
builders of mansions and church and school restorers for
many miles round. . . . When my house, terraces, &c.,
were finished and I filled up the quarry, the masons and
quarry men talked as if I were closing a gold mine ; but
there was no help for it, for the yawning gulf lay just under
the walls of the building."

Of scarcely less importance in the pursuit of
economy was the personal supervision which Pat-
more exercised over the work in progress and his
determination to break through the various trade
conventions which tend to increase expenditure. He
relates many instances of profitable interference with
the routine of building — how, for example, finding
that the workmen were taking down the farm-build-
ings brick by brick, he with his own hands levered
down masses of wall with a crowbar, a method on
which he subsequently insisted, and which effected
very considerable economy ; how he frequendy de-
tected waste of time in other particulars and gener-
ally secured that full value should be given for that
for which he paid. He seems also to have obtained
these advantages without causing friction or resent-
ment on the part of those employed, who appear

228 COVENTRY PATMORE

to have appreciated the justice of his comments,
to have caught his enthusiasm, and to have served
him loyally.

The following letter to his wife gives an instance
of one such interference :

" Wednesday.

" It has been a sad day for work, dear, but a good deal of
demolition and a little edification have been got through.
I have been out in the rain all day, and have used up three
hats, and as many coats and boots, in my endeavour to
keep the men to their work.

" I had one bit of good luck — I had been complaining to
Bannister of the idleness — especially of the labourers, but
his answer of course was that each bricklayer's labourer
did enough if he made mortar and carried it and the bricks
to the bricklayer. Immediately after this I caught a third
labourer bringing mortar to the two bricklayers of whose
labour I had been complaining. So here was a fine and
unanswerably legitimate opportunity for administering a
blow. I asked labourer No. 3 in the hearing of the brick-
layers and their labourers Nos. i and 2, if he belonged to
either of the brick-layers he was bringing mortar to. * No.'
So I ordered him to go immediately on other work, re-
membering that it was clear his services were not wanted,
as I had seen the other two standing a few minutes before
with their hands in their pockets.

" This evidently produced a sensation, and Mr. B., to whom
labourer No. 3 went and reported my order, instead of
sulking, as I thought he would, was decidedly more civil
than before.

" Two new * Wallers ' have come on to-day, so one faintly
hopes that more may be done. But I have a suspicion that
the workmen have agreed among themselves that the job
shall last till Xmas, and that addition of labour really is
* division ' of labour.

" I have caught no cold though I have had plenty of
chances.

''Progress. A course all but one stone added to the
chimney. A muUion and a half worked for the new gable.
A sill set, taken out again because it was not straight. A
neat little deal box nearly finished for Mr. B's Sunday
hat. . . . Yours, C.P."

J
>

X

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Z

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X

THE MAN OF BUSINESS 229

The result was that he obtained a very attractive
though simple and even ascetic residence at con-
siderably less cost than might have been anticipated.

The house was completed in 1868. The family,
which had been scattered while the work was in pro-
gress, was brought together in the new home, and
Patmore was able to transfer all his energy and in-
j^enuity to the development of the grounds. His
scheme for these can be described only in general
terms.

The depression in front of the house suggested a
series of large fish-ponds connected by waterfalls.
Patmore made accurate calculations for the transfer
of the soil, so that a balance might be established
l)etwecn the banks and the hollows. He invented
too a new and more economical method of ** pud-
dling." by horse instead of by manual labour. By
employing a small staff of men under his own super-
vision he kept the expenditure within very modest
limits.

He also turned his attention to forestry, a science
on the mastery of which the value of a Sussex estate
largely turns. Large quantities of timber and scrub
had to be removed to clear the house from obstruc-
tion and to open out the best views, and a consider-
able portion of the land had to be planted, on .scien-
tific principles, with fresh timber. Shrubs too were
needed in proximity to the house, and Patmore states
that he spent on them as much as /* 180 in a single
year.

These operations, together with minor but neces-
sary details — making or widening drives, cutting
jjaths through the copses, building summer-houses,
cottages, and an aviary, the management of the home-
farm, game-preserving and the checkmating of
poachers, occupied his thoughts and time for some
years. To every portion he gave the fullest attention

230 COVENTRY PATMORE

and brought to bear on it all the practical ability he
possessed To the success of his scheme on the
aesthetic side I can bear personal testimony : Heron's
Ghyll as I knew it in the early seventies was cer-
tainly one of the most charming places I have seen ;
none the less so for being unpretentious and of al-
most ascetic simplicity ; while on the financial side
the achievement proved ultimately no less conspicu-
ous.

Besides the litde book I have mentioned, Patmore's
letters of this period give many details of the life he
led while superintending the work. He was out of
doors all day in all weathers, often working with his
own hands, throwing down walls, knee-deep in the
mud of the lakes he was forming, soaked with the
rain, plastered with the soil, or covered with the dust
of demolition — a strange life for a poet with more
than a suspicion of lung weakness. Nevertheless he
seems to have gained by this experience not merely
in health but in mental power. The following letter
to his wife, written when the more important part of
his work was approaching completion, gives evidence
that both climate and occupation had proved bene-
ficial to him.

"Tuesday Night, Buxted Farm.

" Dearest,

" I do think we shall be very happy here. Every
thing is so calm and ' slow ' and suited to my rest-loving
mind. The climate too seems unlike any I have yet known
for my health. The air is so pure and thin that my brain is
still in a state of pleasant intoxication with it, and no ex-
posure — even without exercise — to damp and cold, shows
the slightest tendency to bring back the hitching in my
throat, which has completely left me. If only we can get
the Church question settled comfortably, I do not see a
single thing to interrupt our pleasure in our new possession.

" You will be surprised at the effect of my alterations in
the gprounds — even in the very unfinished state you will see

THE MAN OF BUSINESS 231

them in. Constable seems to think I work by a fairy's
wand. Wood's foreman is always here, but every idea is
mine, and it is lucky I remained, for his ideas would not
have pleased you so well, I think.

" Good-bye dear,

"C. P."

The "Church question" was this : the Patmores
were bound to hear Mass on Sundays and on the
greater festivals. The nearest church was at Lewes»
twelve miles away : the only other within reach
was at Tunbridge Wells, two miles further still.
Patmore applied to Rome, asking leave to have a
private chapel in his house and a resident chap-
lain. The Pope granted a license for daily Mass
and the still greater privilege of permission to re-
tain the Blessed Sacrament — on condition that on
Sundays and festivals the chapel should be thrown
open to the public, and that on certain days the
family should attend their parish church at Lewes.

One of the new rooms of the house had been ex-
pressly designed for a chapel and merely required
fittings : the difficulty of obtaining a suitable chap-
lain was considerable. The post of private chaplain
is, I believe, held in small favour by Roman Catnolic
priests, and in the present instance there was no
society in the neighbourhood to attract, nor were the
duties required such as to provide sufficient occupa-
tion : so none offered but aged invalids. One of
these was in constant need of nursing, and often
proved unequal to the little duty that was required
of him.

Patmore had many stories to tell of the eccen-
tricities of his chaplains ; how they would ask him
for his oldest wine and specify other creature com-
forts they required, without shame or compunction.
Before long this arrangement became intolerable:
so their house was served by a priest from Lewes ;

t

232

or they woul4 entertain as a guest one whose work
lay in some large town, and who required rest and
diange of air.

As I have said, the house was extremely simple
in character and depended for its charm on good
material andproportioni-— on solidity, and refinement
of detiaul. The only feature I can recall which was
adistinct luxury was the stained g^bss which Patmore
had phced in the upper lights of the large bay
window in the drawing-room. The subject was
characteristic of him and of his works : there were
represented in medallions the ''seven heroines of
poetry/' Eve, Helen, Dido, Kriemhild, Guinevere,
Laura, and Beatrice. Eve occupied the centre lig^t,
and one of the heads, I foiget which, was a portrait
of his daughter Emily.

Patmore's study was pleasantly placed at an ang^

of the new house, but scarcdy gave him the sedit*-

s»on which he neieded for his work and ruminatiim.

The hoiise piroved somewhat conductive of sounds

and the battle of the offices could not be exduded.

) He therefore built himself a hermitage in a wood at

some distance from the house — a timber structure,

C thickly thatched, lined throughout with varnished

match-boarding, and fitted with a grate which would

Vv \ hold the liberal fire of logs which he loved. Of

^ this he jealously kept the key, and allowed no ser-

^ ^ vant to enter it ; nor was it swept by any hands but

^ his own, unless, as a rare privilege, he allowed his

^ eldest daughter now and then to be his housemaid.

His family and visitors were however occasionally

admitted to tea there by special invitation. Later

he introduced bedding for use in times of pressure,

and would tantalize his guests with offers to let

them spend the night in this romantic solitude.

Mrs. Gamett, who was a frequent visitor, supplies
the following story :

\"

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THE MAN OF BUSINESS 233

"I well remember a picturesque summer-house at Heron's
Ghyll in which we young people often passed happy hours.
In it was a certain luxurious couch, the cushions of which
were embroidered by the ladies of the family. An ample
fireplace, fashioned to bum large logs of wood, was in
rather dangerous proximity. I once coaxed C. P. to allow
me to sleep one night there all by myself for the romance
of the thing. He at once consented, and I was enchanted
by my success in coaxing the owner of that delicious little
house ; but in a moment he drew me aside, and in low,
mysterious tones remarked, ' Perhaps I ought to tell you
that a certain iron box under the couch contains a quarter
of a ton of gunpowder.* "

The only further addition to the place was a gate-
way tower, built to adjoin the house and increase
its accommodation by some half dozen rooms. This
was not however projected until Patmore had come
to realise that Heron's Ghyll had grown into a home
beyond his means, though for a wealthy owner it
needed enlargement. Soon after the completion of
this final work he let the estate (1874), and sub-
sequently sold it to the Duke of Norfolk.

The financial result, as given at the commence-
ment of " How I Improved my Estate,'' is as follows.
The original cost of the estate was /" 14,000, and
Patmore spent jCs^SOO in improvements. He sold
timber to the amount of /^ i ,000, and during his
fifteen years of occupation obtained, by farming
much of his own land, considerably larger returns
than could have been got from rent. He finally
sold the property for j^2 7,000. The net profit he
reckons at ^9,500. The above figures, however,
work out at ^'8,500, ;^ 1,000 less than this. To
account for the discrepancy it may be supposed
either that he brought the £i ,000 into profit as the
usufruct of the land over and above the probable
rental, or that his characteristic optimism landed him

^34

COVENTRY PATMORE

in an error of this amount In any case the transaction
gives good evidence of his business capacity.*

Before finally quitting Heron's Ghyll, Patmore
set up a memorial stone on which was chiselled*
*' Ora pro C- P. qui ordinavit"

Ipfr Patmore was probably right in thioking that he would harc
got ;f 2,000 more for the estate had he sold it two years earlier,
before agricultural depression set in.

CHAPTER XVI

COUNTRY LIFE

FOR a full year and more Patmore's work on
the house and grounds had proved an en-
grossing occupation, and had left him little
time for enjoyment or for assimilating the phase
of life which lay before him. As his employment
slackened he had increased opportunities of appre-
ciating his surroundings and of entering upon the
duties and pastimes uiey offered. He had never
since boyhood lived for long out of London or its
suburbs, and many features of country life came
home to him almost with the charm of novelty. It
was a delight to him to observe not merely the pro-
cesses of nature in the garden, fields, and woods, but
also the various operations of agriculture on his land
The following letter to his wife shows what fascina-
tion these had for him, and is evidently the basis of
a passage in his ode ** L'AUegro," which describes
better than any other the life on which he was now
embarked :

"Yesterday I had my last har\'cst thrashed out. We
thrashed 170 sacks in about twelve hours. I think, that
when we have got used to the steam-engine we shall not
think it unpoetical. I am sure Goethe would have made a
splendid passage out of the rapidity with which the hopes
of the long year are ' realized : ' the grain pouring from
the many mouths of the machine all at once, the numbers
of men feeding the furnace, oiling the engine, tying up the
sacks as they fill, building up the mountainous stacks of

straw, the sacks accuniulating in the barn, etc It is a
very invigorating sight and I wish that you were there to
see it"

As too the estate was lai^e enough for game, and
the stream held, as Sussex streams usually do, a
number of good-sized trout, he was encouraged to
initiate himself in the mysteries of sport I doubt
if he had much previous training in shooting or fish-
ing« nor do I know to what proficiency he attained.
He used certainly to get a fair basket of trout fixMn
the little stream, and he did not altogether fail as a
shot; though his ambition was modest Of his
driving I shall have a story or two to tell later. Such
occupations were the more necessary to him as there
was litde society in the immediate neighbourhood.
His great friends, Dr. and Mrs. Jackson, who had
settled at Saxonbury, Frant, were some fifteen miles
away : the present Mrs. Patmore's family, the Rob-
sons, lived at Lewes, scarcely less distant The
only friend he had widiin easy reach was Dr. Prince
who had erected an observatory on Crowborough
Hill, and whom he often visited, especially if any-
thing unusual was to be seen with the telescope.
(A letter recording one such visit is given in vol. ii.,
c. vii.^. But, notwithstanding the distance, he fre-
quently went to see his friends at Frant, and was
often at Lewes, where the Robsons' house was open
to him when he had to attend his parish church.

It was however the society of his own class only
that was remote, and he had plenty of human in-
terest at his doors in the tenants, labourers and others
who were connected with the estate. By way of
drawing them together, and of showing that Roman
Catholics were not necessarily out of sympathy with
popular customs, he, as soon as the principal work
in his house was finished and before the quarry

COUNTRY LIFE 237

was closed, inaugurated, on the 5th of November, a
grand celebration, which was to rival that at Lewes.
The quarry provided an excellent site for the bon-
fire : the children were set to dress an enormous Guy:
Patmore brought his old knowledge of chemistry
to bear on the fireworks, which he made himself, and
which proved very successful. One of the gardeners,
who was told off to assist in the cremation of the
effigy, was heard to say : ** What, burn him ? Why,
I thought they worshipped him ! " All the families
on the estate were invited to see the show, and were
regaled with cake and whisky. Their numbers were
found to have increased prodigiously for the occa-
sion.

He was naturally observant, and his poorer neigh-
bours were studied by him for purposes both humor-
ous and practical. He records, for example, how the
little daughter of one of his servants, whom he had
suspected of poaching, saw some pheasants in the
larder, and exclaimed, '* Oh, what pretty pigeons ; "
and, on being told that they were not pigeons, she
replied, that she was quite sure they were, because
her father had told her they were pigeons. Also he
relates that he would receive offers from intending
tenants, prepared to give more than a reasonable
rent, for land in the immediate neighbourhood of his
covers ; no doubt because they anticipated a more
valuable harvest from the woods than from the fields.
Indeed the poaching fraternity seem to have taken
a thoroughly business-like view of their occupation,
and, when caught and sentenced, admitted that the
penalty was reasonable, and that they had had more
than full value for it in pheasants. Patmore de-
veloped in those days a strong game-preserving in-
stinct. He tells how, hearing in the middle of the
night the sound of gunshots in his covers, he sallied
out fearlessly with a pair of horse pistols, failing to

{^

as* COVENTRY PAT MORE

eeaUse 131 later how great a risk he had been run-
viai^% he was surpt^ed also at the strength of
tl^ tnifii^e ndiich had led him into danger. It was,
I think, dar% die deare to protect his game more
efecttvely, paurdy diewishto surmount any disability
which mig^t attach to him as a Roman Catholic,
which made him move his influential friends to get
him placed on the Commission of the Peacej am
sqpjj^omtment which he sought, again mtsueofts^idly,;
wnile at Hastings.

I have shown in a former chapter (p. i6o) timt
die conditicms whidiwith Patmore had proved most
<x>nducive to poedc impulse were present whenever
he experienced a rebound of health after the dqpres-
sum of illness. These, with odiers of no less im*
portance, attended die life he was now leading.
His health had, as I have said, gready pn^ted by
die new surroundings ; nor was it from mere illness
d^ he was recovering, but from the deepest sorrow
^ of his life. He had dso for the first time been able
^' to concentrate his mind on pursuits whidi were ab^
J^ solutely unconnected with ms former employments.
v While engrossed with the improvement of his estate
^ ^ he was unconsciously preparing the mental soil for
vy a new harvest of poetry. If the ground was not
lying fallow it was at least benefiting by " rotation
& of crops." Patmore has written that " no amount

~. pf idleness is inexcusable in a poet." Apparendy

the strenua inertia of his country occupations was
even more advantageous to him than perfect leisure.
The first sign of the returning impulse was an ex-
hilaration which showed itself in various ways.
Those who were with him at the time of which I
am speaking say that he was often " as merry as a
schoolboy." He loved to take his friends drives in
the beautiful country, often into remote parts. On
one such drive the party was overtaken by a ter-

/

COUNTRY LIFE 239

rific thunderstorm. They found themselves further
from home than from Mayfield, and thither Patmore
drove through the pelting hail to obtain quarters at l ^
the little countiy inn and dry clothing at the Con- \
vent His spirits always rose with any paroxysm
of nature, and the following morning saw him so '
elated that nothing would satisfy him but to return
by way of Saxonbury, a cUtour of many miles, that
he might relate the adventure to his friend Mrs.
Jackson.

A sure symptom of Patmore*s exhilaration was a
love of teasing, which often took the form of raising
the expectations of his victims and disappointing
them at the last moment Mrs. Gamett, who had
herself been subjected to an experience of this kind,
as related in the last chapter, gives me the following
story :

"C. P., his two daughters, a lady friend, and myself
journeyed to Brighton to spend the day. It was a very
cold one in mid-winter: we were shivering in a keen
north-easter ; and the prospect of a warm room and lun-
cheon had been uppermost in our minds for some time.
Mr. P. spoke of a certain well-known restaurant, and painted
in glowing terms a dish for which the restaurant was
famous, hashed venison. Wc all took our seats : the waiter
advanced expectant of orders for five guests. ' Waiter,'
said C. P., ' this lady (pointing to me) and I will have a
dish of venison — i*ery hot if you please. But, waiter, it is
Friday. The other ladies fast.' "

Another story, which Patmore used often to tell, is
in somewhat similar vein, and shows too that he had
no Puritanical scruples as to the subject of \i\sjeux
(Tesprit.

He was walking one day in the woods with a
clever and very vivacious French lady who frequently
visited him. They came upon a dormouse whicn

/

240 COVENTRY PATMORE

ate a wild strawberry out of his hand He there-
upon improvised the following :

^ When the first dormouse saw Adam and Eve eating
the apple, he said to himself, ' I should like a bit of that 1'
but he hid his eyes with his tail, lest he should be exposed
to temptation, and for that reason was eicempted from tihe
wildness which fell upon all other animals.**

The lady was a friend of M. Louis Veuillot, editor of
** rUnivers," the organ of the extreme Ultramontanes.
She thought very highly of M. Veuillot, an opinion
which Patmore fail^ to share. There had been
discussions between her and 'Patmore as to his
merits, during one of which the lady had exclaimed,
'* Ah, monsieur, c'est le meilleur homme du monde.'*
"Pardon, madame," answered Patmore, ''c'est le
meilleur homme de Tunivers/' The lady was much
delighted with Patmore's story of the dormouse of
Eden, and at once communicated it to her friend M.
Veuillot. A fortnight afterwards there appeared in
'TUnivers'' an account, two columns long, of this
'' beautiful English Catholic tradition."

But high spirits were not the only symptom of the
return of poetic impulse. Absence of mind began
to show itself in certain ways. Patmore had always
seemed to me to be a somewhat inattentive if not
careless driver ; but, if it were a guest who was his
companion, he was sufficiently alert for practical
purposes : if it were his wife or daughters who
were with him, he would become completely ab-
sorbed. His horse was not remiss in taking ad-
vantage of his pre-occupation, and would often lapse
into a walk without disturbing his driver's riverie.
On one occasion Patmore was taking his wife for a
drive : they went on and on into unfamiliar regions :
evening began to fall: Patmore showed no sign
of turning, and was evidently quite self-absorbed.

COUNTRY LIFE 241

unconscious of his position, of the growing dark-
ness, of all but his own thoughts. Mrs. Patmore
tried in vain to rouse him. She spoke to him : he
did not answer; shook him, with as little result;
then, as a last resoiure, she took the reins and
stopped the horse. This brought her husband to
his bearings, and he found himself in a region quite
unknown to him, and almost in darkness. Presently
a rustic came on the scene, and Patmore asked him
the way to Heron's Ghyll. The answer was, '• I
don't rightly know ; but if you go on as you're going,
you'll be drowndedy Some time later Patmore suc-
ceeded in finding the spot where they had been lost,
and saw a deep pond but a few yards beyond the
point at which his wife had stopped the horse.

The habit of inattentive driving was not con-
fined to periods of poetic incubation, but became
permanent. When his youngest son was about four
years old he said to his mother on returning from a
tSt€-€L-t£te drive with his father, " Mama, Piphie would
rather not be a poet when he's a man." Mrs. Pat-
more asked him " Why not ? " The child answered,
•' Because poets take so long to drive to Winchel-
sea,"

I have not succeeded in finding any evidence as to
the time when the actual composition of the earlier
Odes began. The first instalment was privately printed
in 1 868j and, as for a considerable time between 1866
and 1 868 Patmore had been engrossed with his estate,
I conclude that he had written these nine Odes with
great rapidity. His composition was indeed always
rapid when the impulse was strong.

Though it belongs to a somewhat later period, I
may give here a story of self-absorption resulting in
a fine passage.

Patmore was walking* with his daughter, Gertrude,
on the Common near Tunbridge Wdls, and had for

I. R

242

COVENTRY PATMORE

a long time been silent and absorbed, whea he sud-
denly asked her if she had a piece of paper with her.
She had non^ but gave him her linen cuE He
wrote on it, and on his return to the house, having
copied from it, gave her back the cuff, on which she
found the following lines — lines which must have
been ccmstaotly present to the minds of those who
know the Ode^ durii^ the last few months, when
most days have brought news of the heroic deaths
of our soldiers :

** The sunshine' dreaming upon Salmon's height

Is not so sweet and idiite

As the most heretofore sin-spotted soul

That darts to its delight

Strait fincHn Ae absolutfon of a faithful fight."

CHAPTER XVII

THE ODES

IF there are no records of the time when Pat-
more first began to write the Odes, neither are
there any to explain how and from what mo-
tives he came to adopt the metrical form in which
they are cast In later years he always spoke of their
metre as ** catalectic/' a definition which, seeing that
he brought all, even blank, verse under the law of
"catalexis," does not throw much light upon the
subject The new metrical system seems to be
founded on no theoretic principle, nor can it be ex-
plained by analysis. Neither length of line nor
incidence of rhyme are subject to any formal law :
both depend upon the ear alone. What Horace said
incorrectly of Pindar may be accepted as true of
Patmore : " Numeris fertur l^e solutis/'

Early in 1868 he had written nine Odes, which,
in the April of that year, he printed for private
circulation.'

In the preface to the volume he says :

" I meant to have extended and developed this series of
Odes until they formed an integral work expressing an
idea which I have long had at heart ; but feelings which

* These Odes had no titles as they first appeared. They may
be identified in the later publications under the following titles :
I. Propheu who cannot Suig. II. Felicia (called m later editions
"Beau"). 111. Tired Memory. IV. Faint yet Pursuing. V.
Pain. VI. The Two Deserts. Vll. Deliciae Sa|nentic de Amore.
Vlll. Dead Language. IX. 1867.

244 COVENTRY PATMORE

are partly conveyed by the concluding piece have dis-
couraged me from fulfilling my intention, and I now print
these fragments of the proposed poem for private distribu-
tion among the few persons who are likely to care for them
as they stand."

The ''concluding piece" is that called in the
later editions " 1867/* After expressing a pessi-
mistic view of the condition of England in matters
political and social, of which D' Israeli's Reform Bill
was both symptom and cause, it ends with th&e
lines:

" Hush'd be all song,

And let Christ's own look through

The darkness, suddenly increased,

To the grey secret lingering in the East"

These Odes were all republished in later editions,
for the most part with little alteration. One of theto,
that called later " Tired Memory," which is biogra-
phically the most interesting of all, was considerably
modified, mainly by the omission of the last twenty-
three lines.

Though Patmore sent this group of Odes to such
friends only as he thought likely to appreciate them,
their reception was not encouraging. Few esti-
mated them at their proper value, and the acknow-
ledgments he received were for the most part forced
and perfunctory. This, though disappointing, should
scarcely have surprised him. To readers of his
earlier work the appeal must have seemed altogether
new both in form and subject. Those who had
cared for the *' Angel '* even with intelligent insight
must have been at a loss to connect it with the new
poems, and slow to discern the essential identity of
subject when presented under so different an aspect ;
and the very originality of the work must have
proved a barrier to immediate and general recogni-

THE ODES

245

tion. Patmore has himself recorded how slowly
he had come to see Tennyson's merits, and might
therefore have allowed for a tardy appreciation of
his own. He was however keenly mortified ; and
when the book had been less than two years in
print, he made a fire in the hall and cast on it (as
he thought) all the copies remaining on his hands,
while he calmly sat and watched diem burn. A
friend who had heard of the intended bonfire per-
suaded his daughter Emily to abstract a copy or
two, and these, with the few which had been sent to
friends, were all that remained of the edition. Copies
of it are now of considerable value.

I may record here another similar cremation made
from altogether different motives. Patmore was
always scrupulously anxious that his published work
should be in full accordance with the doctrines of the
Church which he had joined. In 1873, nine years
after his conversion, he began to feel doubtful
whether his earlier work was altogether free from
error, and, in order to be on the safe side, deter-
mined to destroy all remaining copies of the ''Angel."
These were in die hands of Messrs. Macmillan, who
also had the right of publication. Patmore arranged
with the publishers for a surrender of their rights
and of the stock in hand, for which he paid them
jCso : all the remaining copies were sent to Heron's
Ghyll and formed the material of a second bonfire.
Later he came to realize that the sacrifice had been
unnecessary. In 1886 he states (vol. ii., c. iv.) that
" he had not one word to alter in order to bring the
' Angel ' into harmony with Catholic truth and feel-
ing.' In the same year he writes, in a poem called
"A Retrospect":

.^ITJw

^1

" I, tnisdng that the truly sweet
Would still be sweetly found the true

COVENTRY PATMORE

<\

ySang, darkling, taught by heavenly heat,
Songs which were wiser than I knew "

Also in die *' Child's Purchase " he writes :

^ And crowns the few [sc. days! which thoo wilt not dis-
praise,
When clear my soi^ of La^s graces rang,
And little guess'd I 'twas of thee I sang/'

Patmore indeed came to consider the " Angel " as
evidaice that he had been practically a " Catholic "
long before his actual conversion, a view which seems
tenable only on die assumption that Roman Catho-
licism holds a monopoly of purity, chivalry, and
ideality in the treatment of love- These qualities
however are no doubt the main connecting link be-
tween die earlier and later work.

Seven years after the issue of the nine odes, Pat-
more published in ''The Pall Mall Gazette/' then
editied by Mr. Greenwood, ten poems, eight of them
odes and two from die privately printed edition.
Among the number was " The Toys/* which became
the most popular of his later poems/ They were

^ Appended is a list of the poems which Patmore printed in
" The PaU Mall Gazette " and in " The Week," with dates ;

Printed in "The Pall Mall Gazette":
March 8, 1875, ''How it Seems to an English Catholic"
Signed C. P., afterwards published as "The Standards."
Jany. 18 /76, "Peace," signed C. P.

July 6 /76, " The Rosy Bosom'd Hours,"

„ C. P.

Nov. 3/76, "Let Be,"

„ C. P.

Nov. 7 /76, "A Farewell,"

, C.P.

Nov. 14 /76, " If I were Dead,"

. C.P.

Nov. 22 /76, " The Two Deserts,"

, C.P.

Nov. 30 /76, "The Toys,"

, C.P.

Dec 20 /76, " Prophets who cannot Sing," ,

, C. P.

Aug. 20 /77, " The Giri of All Periods," ,

, C. P.

Printbd in "The Week":

Jany. 5 /78," Arbor Vitas,"

, C.P.

THE ODES 247

signed " C. P.," and, though they attracted a good
deal of attention, their authorship was recognised by
few beyond the circle of the poet's intimates. It is
said indeed that a poeta mtnimtssimus, who bore the
same initials, was anxious to disclaim connection
with them.

In 1877 Patmore published a collection of Odes
under the title '* The Unknown Eros,*' and a second
series followed in 1878 which included "Amelia,"
an idyll or narrative love-poem in the metre of the
Odes, thus forming a link between these and the
" Angel."

These poems, though their circulation has never
been and probably never will be very extensive,
have already done much to raise Patmore s reputa-
tion. They were welcomed by many who remained
blind to the depth of thought and to the literary
skill which had been shown m the more simple and
domestic poems of the earlier cycle. Patmore in-
deed was inclined to resent the strong preference
which the critics proclaimed for the later work, which
he attributes (see p. 161) to the change of form.
He did however admit that the Odes were his best
poems, an opinion which readers may endorse with-
out depreciating the earlier work.

Undoubtedly Patmore has, in the Odes, penetrated
nearer to the living heart of poetry. Some hint of
the abstract and the ideal is essential to poetic effect,
but may be revealed in various modes and degrees.
In the Odes these elements are present in greater
abundance and in closer condensation. Love, the
main subject of all Patmore's verse, is no longer
shown as love in earthly fruition, but is raised and
etherealised, becoming more closely identified with
Divine Love ; and the change of subject corresponds
with an increase of pregnancy in expression. Since
he wrote the ''Angel, Patmore's life had served

n

248 COVENTRY PATMORE

to djBepeOf widen, and intensify bodi thought zxfd
iS^eliiig; hjs ear too had gained in accuracy, a^
the new form of verse proved more fordbfe aiif}
iffQT^ elastici lending itself to the expression of
mijCMre pottp^iant emotion and to greater exaltation
and complexity of thought. What he offered in thjs
Odes approached more nearly to the quintessence of
poetry, and for that very reason his ** audience "^ wa?
likely to be '* fit though few." The appeal is now
lusivdv to genuine lovers of poetry as such;
uie *' Angel '' won many readers amongst
those who care for litde more than the sentiment
and die story. It is not every reader of verse who
loves it for its poetic quali^, and few can drink of
the Pierian spring undiluted, or breathe die air of
nibuntain summits. The higher and purer the strain,
the smaller will be the number of diose who have
ears for it.

^ Patmore's position as a poet must be settled in
the future, possibly in the remote future, but will, I
/believe, ultimately depend far more on die Odes tfa^n
tm the earlier poems, though these may continue tq
command the larger audience. But anticipations as
to the judgment of posterity are hazardous. I may
shift the burden of prophecy to the stronger shoulders
of one who has in many ways helped to spread the
sails of the poet's reputation, and who, as "The
Looker-on," wrote as follows in "Blackwood's Maga-
zine" (March, 1898):

" Why Patmore should have been so much neglected,
and neglected most when the best of his work was coming
from the press, is a wonder ; but yet not very remarkable ;
for in every century almost every art adds to the number
of such humiliating puzzles. Most of the greater poets of
this century suffered by a blindness of judgment which
nobody has been able to explain ; and as long as it remains
mysterious it is likely to remain uncured. Judging from

THE ODES 249

the past, the probability is that at this moment some con-
siderable genius is scanned by hundreds of persons of fine
taste with no clearer discernment of his worth than if they
were mere 'ordinary readers.* But if so, the hapless man
has this to his comfort, that it is usually the lasting genius
which goes unrecognised at its first appearance. The ap-
plause that is instantly won is oftenest revised, reduced, or
even silenced ; that which is first bestowed by an after-
generation, apparently no wiser, is seldom withdrawn by
the succeeding age. Strange; but a blessed thought for
the man who fades into the grey years with little praise,
and but a small award of pudding, for what he knows to
be good work."

The completion of the Odes practically ended
Patmore s career as a poet. The very limited ap-
preciation they received discouraged him, and he
came to think that he had said all he had to say
that could be expressed in verse. He had however
occasionally an ambition to write more, as well as
ideas of the form in which future verse might be cast
One of his projects was to write a long narrative
poem in ode metre, like '' Amelia " but on a much
larger scale ; the other was to select certain passages
from the Odes which seemed rhythmically complete,
suggesting a long and complex stanza, and to write
a poem in stanzas thus formed.

Though he had never altogether accepted the
sonnet as a serviceable form of verse, he was en-
thusiastic about such *' g^eat and gracious " stanzas
as those of Spenser's " Epithalamium,'' and thought
he could write happily in some such metre. Neither
of these schemes was ever carried out.

Patmore's letters written between 1873 and 1878
to an intimate and sympathetic friend, throw much
light upon the circumstances, physical and mental,
under which the later Odes were written, and give
evidence of the study which he devoted to his work,
of the seriousness of his aims, of his theories and

250 COVENTRY PATMORE

purposes — in fact give a fair idea of the inner life of
the poet while in the throes of composition. A very
large proportion of them are concerned with the
" Child's Purchase/' a poem in honour of the Blessed
Virgin, which is certainly the most ambitious if not
the most perfect of his Odes. The dates of the ex-
tracts given are not always ascertainable, nor does
much of their interest depend on chronology. I have
arranged them in the order which seems to give the
best picture of the poet's mental processes.

" If I live ten years more, and have health of mind and
body, I shall probably write the poem you long for. It
seems impossible — but that is no reason for not undertaking
it Most things that are worth doing seem impossible till
they are done."

*' I believe that no amount of idleness is wrong in a poet
Idleness is the growing time of his harvest — and the upcome
of a year can be reaped in one fine day."

" I have no plans as yet, for none of my old ones seem wide
enough ; but I am preparing myself, by six or seven hours
reading and thought every day, for any plans that may be
presented to me. If I am to do anymore work, it must be
on some new level. The longer it is before the key-note of
my new song is given to me, the sweeter perhaps it will be."

" Ruskin writes that * no living human being' has ever
done anything that has helped him so much as the Odes ! !
But I do not find myself much affected one way or another
by these things. I know pretty well where my strength
lies, and I know much better than anyone where it falls
short — and the power is so transitory, so almost momentary,
and so seldom comes, that the passing of the wind now fails
to blow my self-conceit into a flame. It is not me : it is
only a sudden flush, or rather flash, of spiritual health, ex-
citing me to song by its uncommonness. Dr. Rouse told
me of a book on the B. V. which I have since bought and
find very useful. But how different must my book be, if
ever it is to be. Shall I ever be able to condense that

^^v,

^iS^^-^^^^^-^rNv'^^

THE ODES 251

formless, unintelligible blaze of mystic doctrine into human
words of ' honied peace ' and beauty ? I know not At
all events it seems right to prepare myself to the best
of my power for the possible gale, which may come some
day and may enable me to ride the waves of the glittering
gulf. I have always found in writing anything of conse-
quence, that the idea, when it has got into my mind, has to
brood there for years, without making any seeming progress,
but in reality ripening, until the impossibility becomes all
of a sudden the easiest of things."

** I have just read the account of Sanazzaro/ I do not
imagine, from the sketch given of his poem, that it is at all
like what I have sometimes dreamt — sometimes still dream
— that it would be possible to write. The more I look at
the subject the more I see that it would be impossible to
treat it directly without profanation. It may be approached
from various directions — as in the * Contract,' but it could
not be directly handled, with any d^^ree of fulness, without
breaking in upon the Divine Silence which hangs over the
subject like a speckless sky over a landscape. I hope you
sec my meaning and agree with me. Three or four more
Odes like the ' Contract ' and ' Delicis Sapientix ' I think
will include all that ought to be attempted : the Series to
be concluded and crowned with a great ode * To the only
Woman.' The subject requires quality not quantity.'*

'* I work steadily about eight hours a day in preparaticm
for the still more unknown ' Eros,' and I think the day will
probably come when I may feel fit to begin. But I shall
not feel so until I have got upon a platform as much higher
and brighter than that of ' Eros ' as * Eros ' is higher and
brighter than the * Victories.' If ever I do write again, I
believe it will be very fast ; for I have got the use of words
and the 'accomplishment of verse' pretty well in hand,
and I shall soon have a large accumulation of new thought ;
so that, when the pulse of poetry begins to beat, the pen will
run glibly."

" Thank you for your nice, long, encouraging letter. I
had got so out of heart about every thing, that I was allow-

* " De partu Virginis."

252 COVENTRY PATMORE

ing the mood to extinguish itself, and the old weary feeliiig
of a dull waiting for death to take possession of me again ;
and the oppression of that feeling on my chest was bring-
ing back the bronchitis, which had curiously almost disap-
peared while I was breathing the pleasure of writing. But,
as the last Ode I sent you pleased you so much, and as you
urge me and inspirit me to * buckle on my armour ' . . . .
I will try not to let the new inspiration die out"

" I have now read theology for four hours a day for five
months,and am getting rather muzzy-pated with it. It is like
living on brandy and soda-water ; and, were it not that 1 occa-
sionally peg into the roast beef of Shakespeare, I fancy I
could scarcely survive it However I have now nearly ended
th€U part of my preparation for my work, and shall soon be
endeavouring the actual composition, though I do not at
all see my way as yet Indeed, I see it less than I did ; for
this prodigious dose of divinity has made me feel half-
chloroformed ; ijt. in a decidedly anaesthetic state. A little
wholesome dissipation will restore me to my senses I hope.
For poetry, contrary to the usual notion, is alipost the only
species of writing which cannot be done when one is out of
one's senses."

'* Last week was rather hard fasting, and I got a little out
of condition at the end of it, but I have been working
steadily. I have written entirely four considerable Odes
since you were here, and added very long and important
passages to one or two others. I read them all over to-
gether this morning. They struck me as gaining immensely
by their cumulative effect, and I think will on the whole
make a volume of more consequence than the last. I began
the volume last Easter. Would it not be fine if I got 5iis
one finished before the end of this Lent? It will certainly
be the best year's work I ever did. And I do not see why
I should not go on at about the present rate for some time
to come. I have hit upon tJu finest metre that ever was
invented, and on the finest mine of wholly unworked material
that ever fell to the lot of an English poet."

" I do not perceive any likelihood of another fit of the
versifying fever as yet It is not right St Valentine's
weather. The warm winter has made Nature nerveless.

THE ODES 253

and there is no motion of the sap as yet in tree or man.
The Blackbird, who by this time ought to sing, only talks,
and all is still mere ' desolation ' to any one with nerves in
sympathy with Nature. I trust it will be better soon ! "

" You will be glad to hear that without writing a line or
even thinking of one, I have got a deal of insight into my
future work. Even the great point — the form — flashed
upon me as I was walking in the garden yesterday morning,
as I was thinking of something quite different

" I have been very well in health, though I have seldom
been able to sleep more than three hours in the night. The
mental work is so hard and constant, that, though it pro-
duces no excitement of any other kind, it leaves the brain
at night in a state of vibration, slight but sufficient to spoil
sleep."

" I quite forgot to give you all the copies of the new Odes
to take away with you, that I might escape having them
talked over. But I have managed to keep them hid away.
You can't think how it annoys me to have to talk about my
poems. All persons seem strangers to me directly they get .^
on that subject, and I feel as if I was shewing love-letters '
to some chance comer. Women especially have so little
sense of decency in introducing and discussing matters of •.
feeling. They ask one, without the slightest sense of in- ^
decorum, if such and such a tender passage was based on ' *'
personal experience, etc. etc., till one is heartily ashamed of
ever having written a line."

"We are quite of one mind in hating everything ' abstract '
— abstract virtue, abstract truth, and all other abstractions,
which are the delight of philosophers, and, I believe, of
devils. I am not sorry however to be alone again and at
work on St. Thomas, whom 1 read daily for some hours —
not only as the best possible preparation for my own
writing, but as 'desiring the sincere milk of the Word
that I may grow thereby ' — of which * sincere milk ' the
' Summa ' is a huge reservoir, though our modem wise
men think it nothing but hair-splitting.

"* I have serious thoughts of making an ' abstract ' (a pin
for the phrase) of certain parts of the * Summa ' for the
use of such English readers as are hitherto in invincible

rather Hiaii malidoiis ^orance concerning Catholic Philo^

"8%-,

I

be poetiy is growing like the moonrise when the disk
is still bdbw tiie horizon. There is more and more light in
liiat direction, but no shape of an)ithing. Not to run before
he is sent is the first duty of a poet, and that which all
livii^ poets — except Barnes — ^forget If this duty Is reli-
giously kept, a very little running may make the success-
nil race, whcsu the moment for starting comes."

^I have been continually engaged in studying and medi-
tating the proposed subject of my next poem. The idea
has, firom time to time, fotr years past, fixed my imagina-
tion ; but it has always seemed too great, when really ap-
pfoadbed, for my powers. I have not as yet the least idea
whether I shall ever write a line of it, beyond those two or
three ' Odes ' which are really part of it, and which were ex*
pressly written as part of it I don't at all see at present how
the subject is to be treated, but I have the great negative
qualification of knowing exactly how it ought not to be
treated. And this perhaps is as much knowledge as it is
good for a poet to have before the actual commencement of
( work. FcMT tibe discovery of the mode of treating a sub-
t is a great in^Mration and deltght, and ought to be
co-instantaneous with the actual composition. So I shall
go on hoping that after perhaps years of thinking and note-
making, as was the case in the composition of the * Ai^^V
in ripeness of time and knowledge a sudden illumination
will come, and I shall write the whole poem off as easily as
a letter, as I did the 'Angel.' "

" Did you get my book ('Amelia ') in which a spring day
is described? I think the volume looks very neat and
quiet — like Amelia in a very plain morning dress, such as
she might have chosen to help Mama make puddings in.
The essay on Metre reads dreadfully learned. Do 3^u
understand it? I am by no means sure if I do."

'* You will be glad to hear that I have really iegun the
great Ode, (the * Child's Purchase ') or rather the Ode on
die great subject, and that I have written two or three
considerable passages of it, not altogether to my dissatisfac-
tion. Begun in such a case is more than half done, but

THE ODES 255

I am so anxious it should be as good as I can make it,
that, feeling now pretty secure about a fair success, I have
put it by for the present in order to go carefully again over
all my sources of knowledge on the subject, so that no
essential thought may be omitted. It is very difficult to
insert an additional thought into an Ode when once it is
fairly finished, because the music rolls in long undulating
strains which would certainly suffer by the introduction of
any after-thought.

^ The Ode, though taking the form of a Prolc^^e or Invo-
cation for modesty's sake, will be self-contained and not
really require anything further."

" Since I began work, just a month ago, I have written
more than I did in the last fever, and that you know was a
severe one. I have written eight new odes in that time.
I have more and more hope that, if I have life and health
for a few more years, I shall be able to write on my splendid f
subject with a beauty and freedom which I cannot foresee.
Lights are constantly breaking in upon me and convincing | ',:
me more and more that the singular luck has fallen to me I
of having to write, for the first time that anyone event
attempted to do so with any fulness, on simply the greatest \ .
and most exquisite subject that ever poet touched since the |
beginning of the world." ;

'* For the last ten days or so I have had a constant low
headache, but have nevertheless been steadily at work, laying
the foundation broad and deep of my possible poem. The
more I consider the subject of the marriage of the Blessed
Virgin the more clearly I see that it is the one absolutely
lovely and perfect subject for poetry. Perfect humanity,
verging upon, but never entering, the breathless region of
Divinity, is the real subject of ail true love-poetry ; but in
all love-poetry hitherto an ' ideal ' and not a reality has
been the subject, more or less. Here there can be no
exaggeration, and yet all is quite simple, without strain.
The whole difficulty of the subject will be in getting rid of
the vulgar ideas of ' greatness ' and seeing the matter in
its essential smailness and homeliness and sweet warm-
heartedness. But this is an enormous difficulty, and one
which I don't see how I can get over. My comfort is that
an apparently insuperable difficulty ahead is the best excite-

JU

256 ■ COVENTRY PATMORE.

r

ment of the intellect that can be — as I know by experience,
for I felt the same hopeful helplessness when I was prepar-
ing to write the ' Angel/ "

" I fear I have not much working time left, and I know I
have much lost time to answer for and make up, if possible.
In poetry, happily, it is possible to make up for lost time»
for there is only a certain amount of original poetry- to be
got out of one's self, and this may be done in one's autumn,
as well perhaps as in one*s summer or spring. It is strange
however how much more my ner\^es get shattered now by
poetic composition than they used to do. Four or five
.Odes completely knock me up/'

" This extraordinary relapse from spring into the worst of
winter again, makes me ver>^ anxious to hear from you.
Everyone (self included) have bad colds in this house, and
how much worse is it likely to be in yours! If we could
see our spiritual bodies which are within this ' mortal scab *
I fancy we should find that all the beautiful white and rosy
hues which had been brought out upon them by the exquisite
spring days of a fortnight ago, have been turned black \ \
wonder if we shall bud and blossom again, or whether all
this year's spiritual fruit is dead. It is a pity, if so, that we
blossom so long before the peaches/' ^

" I have been hard at work, since I saw you, but it is not
work that shows. I have spent more time in getting three
or four lines right than I did in writing the whole of
* Amelia' ; but there is no help for it. Until I have made
the thing the very best I can, it lies on my conscience like
a sin. Your criticism on the commencement of ' St Valen-
tine's Day' has been most valuable to me. I have quite
re-written the opening, in consequence of your remark about
the fault of dwelling on the cold of February/'

" I am wanting very much to hear something about the
new Odes from you. You say very little, but that is go6d.
I, too, think that my poetical powers are certainly not
waning. I doubt, however, whether they are as mature as
you think. I am sure that I am not yet up to writing the
poem for which we both long so much. That re<^uires

THE ODES 257

more than maturity in poetic skill. It requires a maturity
of spiritual peace, to which I have not yet attained.

" By the way, do you never write any poetry now ? You
know how useful the very few verses you ever wrote were
to me; and how I stole some of the finest lines in the
• Eros ' from them."

'* I have written to Dr. Rouse to offer to go to Lourdes
with him and to pay his expenses. This visit to Lourdes I
propose to dedicate to the interest of the Poem. Do you
think I am very superstitious ? "

*' I can write very fast when I have anything to say — but I
am a bad hand at the universal modem accomplishment of
writing well with nothing to say. Cannot you suggest what
the French call a * motif or two? Something that you
yourself would like to write an ode about if you had leisure."

** Notwithstanding my weakness, I have had, these two last
days, a feeling which, had I been six nightingales at once, ^
might have flowed into song ; but as I am only one Poet, it 1^
has stifled itself. One song, or a succession of songs, would
not have expressed it ; nothing but the mortal impossibility
of simultaneous utterance of many songs in different direc-
tions, could have served. So I am silent"

*' Have you had the proofs ? If so how do they read ? Do
you like them as well as 'Eros'? I am very anxious to
know, for, as usual, seeing the poems in print has entirely
destroyed my own pleasure in them. All the meaning and
beauty I fancied I saw in them seems to have vanished, and
it requires a great exercise of faith not to conclude that,
after all, 1 am nothing but a miserable self- deluded
Poetaster."*

* This may be compared with the following letter of Mrs.
Barrett Browning's. (" Letters of Robert Browning and Elizabeth
Barrett Browning," p. 44.) " For the rest there will necessarily be
a reaction ; and in my own particular case, whenever I see a poem
of mine in print, or even smoothly transcribed, the reaction is
moat painful. The pleasure, the sense of power, without which I
could not write a line, is gone in a moment ; and nothing remains
but disappointment and humiliation. I never wrote a poem

I. S

258 COVENTRY PATMORE

^'Amelia' is quite a new experiment It is an Idyll in
Ode metre. I think you will like the versificatioa of
•Alkgnx'"

" I have written as much in the last tiuree wedcs as the
whole of the ^ nine Odes !"

''The beauty and incomparable variety of the metre opens
up quite a new proroect to me of the possibilities crf'poetiy.
In me hands of a Goethe, for example, what might not be
done with it Fancy a drama full of power and tenderness
in which the persons should speak their passions in that

alendid and delicate torrent of music, instead of in stupid
uik verse. But fiur be it from me to dream of such a work.
I must content myself with ' brief swallow-ffights of soi^/
I mean to call my collection of 'Odes' vAenever it is
finished, ' Religio Poetsae,* meaning that r^ion of rdi^oo
which is expressible in human language to me human heart
The Motto shall be ' Desire of me, and I wfll give thee
the headien for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts
of the earth for thy pot^session," na eaning g *«^ thr "**■**
^^ f abused^ *^lth ^ig the 'main region '>rf"thfe Poet an d not i

( ^Pgg'TffiPf h^vtaia^^oi^ liriiaas Ms e^ beliMttgnv
turned to those heaven^ the earth itself remams as inscmt-

^ able as^t^emselves.'*
f ^ '

" Dr. Rouse has sent me another admirable Sermon on the
subject It is most curious how he is exactly the person to
help me, and came to me immediately after I b^^an asking
for the ' best persons, events, &c,' to prepare me for the
work I have in hand."

'* I know nothing of how * Eros ' is getting on, having had
no reports of its sale and seen no reviews, except what you
have seen. Indeed, I told Bell not to let me hear any tUng
about the matter, as it does not really concern me. My
business is done ; I have written the poems and sent them

which you could not persuade me to tear to pieces, if you took me
at the right moment I have a seasonable humility, I do assure
you."

' Those which were privately circulated in 1868.

' Neither of these ideas was carried out

THE ODES 259

Torth, and whether they make their effect now or by-4ind-
by is really a matter of profound indifference to me."

•* I sent you the new edition of the * Angel ' yesterday. If
ever you read the poem again in this new edition you will
find it much the brighter for the few seemingly trifling
omissions and changes I have made. I consider now that
I have done with my old poems for ever. They are as good
now as I shall ever be able to make them. When the
whole four volumes are out, I shall feel as if I had cleared
off, for the first time, one main task of my life, and that the
years to come are free for something unknown and alto-
gether different : * To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures

" H , who is one of the most sober, cultivated and

severe of critics, says that * " The Unknown Eros " surpasses,
in weight of matter and loftiness and perfection of style^all
the poetry of the past generation, and is as secure as any
book ever written of booming a permanent British Classic'

** If this or anything like this praise be true, it will be
looked upon, in times to come, as a curious sign of the
present condition of English criticism that, although the
book has been before the public many years and has had a
fairly large circulation, neither the 'Quarterly,' 'Edin-
burgh,' 'Times,' or 'Saturday Review' has ever noticed
it« while shoals of poetical mediocrities have been lauded
over and over again in their pages. The fact is that criti-
cism, for the first time in the history of English literature,
is wholly left in the hands of a little clique of superfine
literary hacks, whose interest it is to ignore any work that
rebukes their claim to be held as the leaders of literature.
This now seems to be so generally felt by reading people
that Kegan Paul and other publishers have told me that
the criticisms of papers and reviews have scarcely any
appreciable effect on the sale of a book."

"Mr. Hawthorne' came and smoked with me yesterday

evening. You should have heard him talk about the Odes.

" He said the ' Angel ' had always been a treasure to him,

' Julian Hawthorne, who was at one time a neighbour of Pat*
more's at Hastings.

ate

COVENTRY PATMORE

'but you. have grown into a Titan since you wmte thatrj
What was aHaU bettinr, you should have seen the delight
his fiioeas I read him * Amelia ' and ' De Natura Deorum
every word he seemed to see the full meaning of the Brst^
readii^«

^* Yoii must have been happy to have written that,'
said, when I had finished readii^ * Ameha/ and I thotight
— IhadP

n

•* Very few good poets have ever attempted to write re«*
li^us poetry — knowir^ the almost insuperable difficulty.
In the few who have attempted it. Nature and Humanity are
withered up instead of bra% beatffiStf~TCnd developed by the
rd^ousdioi^t The Incarnation, in fact, is still only a
dogma. It has not got b^ond mere thoughts. Perhaps it^J
win take thousands of years to work itself into the feeling3«^|
as it must do before rd^[ion can become matter of poetry?^
You will smile at my attempting such a subject as the
Marriage of the Blessed "N^i^n, holding as I do these views.
I smile at inysdf at dieamir^; of such an impos5tbilit>v
But impossibiuties would never get done if no one attempted
them, and the attempt usually brings a good reu^ard, be
the failure ever so great But mind, I do not intend to fail,
for I do not intend to attempt unless I see my way. What
I am d<»n^ now is merny gropti^ about to find if there
lies any unsuspected pass between or over the seemir^^
insuperable heights. Such hidden ways often lurk in
mountain lands. You seem to be travelling all day towards
a dead upright cliff, and when you come to the foot of it
you find a flowery pathway winding through the heart of it"

" Since I said good-bye to you on Saturday — j>., in three
^ and a half days — I have finished the Great Ode of which
^^ you heard part, and have done two others, both fully up to
the mark, and one eighty lines long. Also I have doubled
in leng^ the shorter Ode I think I read you, about the
Tories and the Russian war. I won't send any of them to
you, for I think you like them best when I read them. This
start of work has warmed my brain so nicely that, if only I
had any more good subfects at hand, I think I could go on
at the same rate for some time longer. But I don't see my
way to anything further. A good subject is a great and
rare godsend. Nearly all subjects that are subjects at all

((

THE ODES 261

are too good. That is they are somewhat by themselves,
and do not depend wholly on the treatment, as a good
subject for an Ode mbst. There are two or three fine
subjects looming in the distance, but I am not up to them
yet — perhaps shall not be for years, if at all."

" Every one of my books — except the first little volume i^
of r ubbish , done to please my father — has been written . >• ^^-
after many )rears of reflection on its subject — reflection for j /^'
my own benefit, not primarily with a view to the book, / ' ^
which has been merely the easy and rapid overflowing into I ^ ' «< . -
words of the fulness of thought at last attained. Hence I ^l i

trust that all I have written will be found by fit judges to \ . ''
be good sense — not necessarily common sense— clearly ex- /Vj ^
pressed (as far as the matter admitted xif) l)ecause clearly
apprehended."

*^ My best things were written most quickly. ' Amelia '\ |

took four days ; • Delicis Sapientiae de Amore' two hours \ » f ^^ ^
several of the best Odes even less. But I have often spent | * j Jl^»- '
days and weeks in working up a short passage to the level jut ^' . ,
of the best. The first Book of the * Angel in the House W t - - '^^
took only six weeks in the writing, though I had thought/ • i^
of little else for several years before."

*' I am the only poet of this generation, except Barnes,
who has steadily maintained a literary conscience. ....
Though, of course, I may not be a competent judge of how tt
good my best is, 1 am sure that I have given the world r
nothing but my best."

" The ' Odes ' arc evidently a dead language to J. B. He
declared he could not catch a glimpse of meaning in many
of the clearest of them. I foresee, from those violent,
opposed opinions, that there will some day be great fight>
ing over them amongst the critics. Sir Frederick Pollock
and Mr. F. Locker acknowledge their copies, with the set
remark that the last poem, *The Rosy- Bosomed Hours,'
is * charming.' "

*' A man who thinks he has got anything to say should
always write for money. There is always some air of prig-
gishness in one who ' gives his advice gratis.' Modesty is

262

COVENTRY PATMORE

preser%*ed by the money-motive. Besides^ the subtJest trutbs
are like the remoter stars ; you cannot see them unless you
look a little on one side of them. You are likely to say
your say the better for having your direct gaze fixed upon
the five, ten, or twenty pound note which your prophecy is
to bring you," t

i

9 ' • r ^,"'^1

EMILY HONORIA PATMORE.
From a photograph by Rej Under, 1872.

N. L

TkfuAf^'itsgL.

i: ■

CHAPTER XVIII

SISTER MARY CHRISTINA (eMILY HONORIA PATMORE)

I.

EMILY HONORIA, the eldest daughter and
third child of Coventry and Emily Augusta
Patmore, was born on June 2nd, 1853. She
was a singularly beautiful infant. Her mother, writ-
ing to a friend, says : " Baby is as sweet as new virgin
honey, and as good as she can be."

Patmore, in a letter to his wife (1855) who was
away on a visit, says : " I never saw Baby looking so
beautiful as she did yesterday evening. Such eyes !
I declare I almost fell in love with them. Blue,
square, and full of

' That strange look of baby state.
Which sweetly waives its right to scorn * ; '

laughing, simple, and yet searching, celestially
mature though earthily infantine. She shall never
marry with my consent if she looks so handsome."

At a very early age she began to help in the
household. When she was four and a half years old
her mother writes about her :

" Kmily begins to read and write. She is vcr>' gentle
and amiable. I look forward to the happiness in her that

you have found in . Even now she amuses Baby in a

room alone every Monday morning for three hours while I

' An adaptation of a passage in " The Angel," Book II., iii. 2 :
" Her sometime look of girlish state
Which sweetly waived its right to scorn."

COVENTRY PATMORE

teach Tennyson, and the servants are washing. She is of
real use in this and many things/'

In 1861 she writes again :

" Emily reads French books alone for amusement, and
can translate Telemachus with looking out a word every
six or seven lines. She also gets up everj' morning, takes
a cold sponge bath, and dresses herself and Bertha ; all
before 1 am awake. She prepares alone, I never see when,
a page of transladon, a page of vocabulary, and writes an
exercise. Is not that good for a child of eight years old? "

At the time that this letter was written her mother
was compelled, on account of her now rapidly failing
health, to live in London with her two elder
daughters as companions, while Patmore divided
his spare time between them and his other children
at Hampstead. Emily always looked back upon
this time of especially close companionship with her
mother as the happiest of her early life.

Her father preserved certain stories about her
childhood which point rather towards the extreme
honesty which was one of her strongest character-
istics, than to the imaginative power which she after-
wards developed. Children are very apt, when a
call is made on them by their elders, to conjecture
what is expected of them and to respond accordingly.
Emily, on the contrary, appears always to have
spoken her genuine sentiments, however disenchant-
ing they might prove.

The first of these is given as Mr. Aubrey de Vere
has kindly communicated it to me.

" A wonderful night had come to them, a night rare in
our misty climate ; one of those which breed a confusion
among the constellations, but which may have suggested
to the poet of * The Seasons ' the line, * Poured all the
Arabian heaven upon their night' It seemed as if some
new and higher manifestation of divine glory were about
to be voucl^fed to our earth. ' Our child must see it,'

SISTER MARY CHRISTINA 265 :

the poet exclaimed ; ' it is worth while breaking her sleep «' ^
for it She will never forget it She will sec in it even \J

more than we do ! We must wait patiently for her earliest
word.' The Father snatched her from her small bed : the \

Mother wrapped the blanket carefully about her. They 1 \

carried her into the garden. Slowly they drew the veil I
from her eyes. They stood in silence waiting for the
oracular word. At last it came. It was this : * Oh papa,
how untidy the sky is ! ' "

Patmore used also to tell me how, remembering
what emotion the first view of the sea had roused in
him, he had waited to hear what Emily would say
when it first dawned upon her. This happened on
a stormy day, when the tide was low and the waves,
breaking far out, churned a wide expanse of ocean
into foam. On this occasion her remark was, *' How
soapy ! "

The only other story about her childhood which I
can remember him to have told, one which may
be specially commended to the notice of Professor
Sully, is as follows :

When one of his friends was riding her upon his
knee with rather excessive vehemence, she exclaimed,
** Please don't, you'll shake out all the sawdust."

She keenly felt the loss of her mother, who died
when she was just nine years old, and retained a
very distinct recollection of her, as is shown by the
little memoir which she wrote many years later (see
above, pp. 1 50- 1 53). From this time her interest in her
younger brothers and sisters and her influence with
all greatly increased; in fact she became the "little
mother," the spirit of the family, to whom both the
elder and the younger children looked up with great
reverence.

It is clear too, from Patmore's letters to her which
are printed (in volume ii.), that there was between
father and daughter an unusual degree of sympathy

I

266 COVENTRY PATMORE

and confidence. The daughter's letters of this period
have not been preserved ; but it is evident from her
father s answers that she communicated to him ever>^*
thing that was of interest to her, even to the smallest
details of her everyday life. She was also his com-
panion in some visits which he paid to friends;
first to William Barnes, the Dorsetshire poet, on
which occasion, as may be gathered from the letters,
her high spirits rather ran away with her; and later
to Mr. and Mrs. James Marshall at Headingley,
near Leeds, where she remained some months after
her father had left. During this visit she sat to Miss
Julia Marshall for the medallion which is given in vol ii-
{p- 123), and which Patmore repeatedly praised as an
admirable likeness, an opinion which all who knew the
daughter must endorse. From Headingley she re-
turned to school, and a little later her father went to
Rome, where he became engaged to his second wife.

She was the first to be introduced to her future
stepmother, and though her love for her own mother
was still intense, she not only cordially accepted the
new relationship, but did everything in her power
to induce her brothers and sisters to welcome it.
This could not have been a very hard task, as, in
spite of extreme reserve, the complete and unselfish
devotion of the new mother could not long fail to be
apparent to all.

Soon after the marriage she, with all the rest of
the children, was received into the Roman Catholic
Church, accepting the change of creed with the full
conviction that it now had their own mother's sanc-
tion and sympathy.

While the transformation of Heron's Ghyll was in
progress, she and her sister Gertrude were sent to a
convent school in London for a year, where, under
the supervision of the Abbess, a friend of their step-
mother, they were so happy that they almost regretted

SISTER MARY CHRISTINA 267

leaving it for the pretty house which had been pre-
pared for them.

It is evident from Patmore^s letters that about this
time she suffered from shyness and self-consciousness.
She took her father into full confidence about this
failing, and received from him wise and fatherly
advice which must have greatly helped her to check
it. I doubt however if this defect was apparent to
any but herself ; at any rate it cannot have been so
for long. To me and to others who knew her at this
period her manner seemed perfectly frank, almost
"downright." The impression I recall is that of
maidenly pride quite unhampered by shyness, and of
looks and ways expressive of exceptional straight-
forwardness, honesty, and candour. Shyness how-
ever often shows itself in indirect and unexpected
ways ; and it may be that the very downrigntness
of her manner was the result of such feeling and of
the effort to subdue it. Probably the sensation of
which she was undoubtedly conscious was larc^ely due
to a change which was taking place in her character
and thought.

She was now often studying under her father s
supervision, and was beginning to share those
spiritual apprehensions which were so vital to him.
Many of her verses, which show great similarity in
thought to Patmore s later work, were written about
this time. She became more thoughtful and more in-
clined to solitude. Instead of spending her leisure
in devising plays, making marionettes, or painting
scenes for miniature theatres to amuse her brothers
and sisters, as she had formerly done, and for which
diversions she had a special talent, she became
more and more silent and self-absorbed. Her father
and stepmother wisely considered this state of mind
to be unwholesome for a girl of sixteen, and decided
to send her to school, where she would have lively

:68 COVENTRY PATMORE

to a convent at St. Leonards-on-Sea to complete her
\ education.

kHer father's letters to her while she was there
show a wise anxiety that she should throw herself
^ completely into the life of the place, spend much of
her time in the open air, and do plenty of practical
/ work. On finally leaving school at eighteen she
J astonished her father by expressing a strong wish to

I return immediately to the convent she had just left,

1 and there to become a nun- He, though desiring

I only her happiness, refused even to consider the

■^^ proposal or to have it mentioned to him for at least
H two years : '* when she had seen more of the world he
H would reconsider the matter, if she had not changed
H her mind in the meantime.'* Accordingly she was
^P taken abroad, and afterwards introduced to social
^^ life in London. Such amusements however entirely
I failed to attract her, though she was grieved to find

I herself unable to enjoy the pleasures that had been

S provided for her* She assured a friend that the

d desire to be a nun had been a fixed idea with her

since her seventh year, though at that time she
y 'scarcely knew what a nun was. If this be so, it
^ ^7/ must have been one of those intuitions to which her
^ father did not hesitate to attach a special value.

On the Twelfth-night after her return from school
some scenes from ** Kenilworth " were acted for the
amusement of the house-party, and were to be followed
by dancing. A lady who had taken the part of
Queen Elizabeth, as soon as the dancing had begun,
went into the chapel, and found Emily sdready there,
in her character-dress of Amy Robsart, prostrate be-
fore the altar, sobbing and praying to be allowed to
get away to her beloved convent. Both the Queen
Elizabeth and the Amy Robsart of that evening
subsequently took the veil.

SISTER MARY CHRISTINA 269

Finding that the desire for convent life was not
diminished, and that the unsatisfied wish was begin-
ing to tell upon her health and spirits, her faUier
yielded before the expiration of the specified time
and himself took her to the convent. She spent two
years of her novitiate at the principal house of the
Order, at Mayfield, which was within a drive of
Heron s Ghyll. Here her relations often visited her,
and witnessed with delight the full return of the old
childlike simplicity and gaiety. After her profession,
she was sent to teach in the school she had left as a
pupil four years before. She had now full scope
and encouragement for her literary talents, and used
laughingly to say, " Now I find it very difficult to
make verses to order." Here again she was soon
within easy reach of her relations, who in 1875 re-
moved to Hastings. It was at this time that she
received copies of her father's Odes as he composed
them, and wrote the letters given below, which show
the deepest sympathy with his poetic work. Indeed
so completely were their thoughts in unison, that, as
one said who knew them both intimately, ''it ap-
peared as though they had one mind in two bodies."

It was evident to dl who saw her in the new life
that she had chosen the vocation which was most
suited to her. Though by no means of robust
health, she never sought any relaxation of the convent
discipline. She became more and more of a ''con-
templative," and those who visited her noticed a
constant increase of beauty corresponding to her
spiritual growth. Mr. Ruskin, writing to her father
in 1868, had spoken of " the quiet, intelligent sweet-
ness of your daughter's face." A relative writes in
her convent days that " at times her face shone with
a splendour which can only be described by the words
' love visible.' " This expression had been used by
the poet of Emily's mother, who represented for him

■ the ideal of conjugal love, and as such inspired " The
H Angel in the House.** The daughter, though id
■ no degree the motive of the Odes, seems to have cor-
H responded scarcely less to the central idea of these
1 later poems. It may, without indulgence of mere
M^ fancy, be noted that mother and daughter realized,
fU each in her own life, the one the earlier, the other
J the later poetical ideal ; while it is entirely conson-

ant with Patmore's view that Love Divine should
be the offspring of Love Human, It was his privi-
lege to see in each the fulfilment of his highest
^ I conceptions, answering to the several periods and
* phases of his poetic impulse,
^^ In the spring of 1 882 Sister Mary Christina ( Emily

J Patmores name *in religion') caught a chtU which
attacked the lungs. She seemed to rally, but failed
to gain strength. After much pain, heroically and
cheerfully borne, she passed away, longing " to be
dissolved to be with Christ." Her father, for whom
her love came little short of adoration, was w^ith her
to the last.

ij

XL

The following verses are taken from a small note-
book into which a number of poems, almost all
religious, are transcribed in a girlish handwriting. I
am certain that Patmore never mentioned them to
me, and believe that they were never shown to him
till long after Emily's death. To me the verses
seem to be of high merit, not merely for spiritual
fervour and intensity, but also for their perfect direct-
ness and naivete of expression — a quality which, ex-
ceptionally rare in modem writing, seems to recall
the manner of a time long past. Had Fran9ois Villon
been as great a saint as he was a sinner, he might,
I think, have written something like the best of these.

SISTER MARY CHRISTINA 271

*' ' When I awaken I am still with thee/

And thou hast been all round me through the night.

I, waking with a throb of ecstasy,

Thank thee beforehand for the day's delight,

And trust to thee, sweet God, to rule it right —

Sweet faithful God, who lovest to the end.

And, be the day all dark or heavenly bright,

I needs must love whatever thou dost send ;

For thou dost take thine infant in thine arms,

And doest for me all thou dost require ;

And thou wilt give me all my heart's desire,

And keep me safe from Satan and his harms —

Bearing me in the path thy love has planned ;

And none, dear Lord, can take me from thy hand."

*• T/u Lavcf^s oivn hour is that in ivhich he suffers for his
Beloiedr

•* / have a baptism wherewith I am to be baptized ; txnd
how a»n I straitened until it be accomplished^

" My /tour is not yet come!'

" Thine hour, my Lord, I hear Thee say :

Desirable that hour must be

Which straitens, by its short delay.

The Ruler of Kternity.

Oh ! let mc then in Thee rejoice,

And grant me such an hour to know !

I hear Thy voice
Reply, in accents grave and low :

* Hora amantis ilia est
Qua pro amico }>atitur.'

" Then that was not some tender hour
Of converse with Thy Mother sweet,
Xor when the wonders of Thy power
Brought new disciples to Thy feet :
Thine hour was that drear April noon.
When to the Cross they nailed Thee down :

Death is the boon
For joy of which Thou wear'st a crown :

* Ilora amantis ilia est
Qua pro amico patitur.'

COVENTRY PATMORE

y* Then my hour shall not be the hour
j When creatures praise and favour pay,

Wor even when Thy love and power

Lead me exulting on my way ;

My hour, like Thine, my Lonl and Love,

Shall be the hour of pain and loss^ —
Darkness abo\^ ;

Beneath, the thorns, the nails, the Cross :

* Hora amantis ilia est

Qua pro amico patitur/

** And when at last that hour draws nigh
That bids me leave the flesh behind,
Shall I then turn from Calvary,
A milder death than Thine to find ?
Since Thou didst die all comfortless,
Shall I not welcome such a lot.

If Thou thus bless
One who in life has loved Thee not?
*■ Hora amantis ilia est
Qua pro amico patiturJ

'* O Love ! How blinded then are they%
Who paint Thee crowned with roses bright I
Tis well, indeed, for such to say
That Love is still bereft of sight
But they who on the Truth do ga^e,
As well as may be here below,

Love thorny ways
Better than all the flowers that blow.
' Hora amantis ilia est
Qua pro amico patitur/"

"The Awakening.

" Awake, arise, O soul, from sleep,

From those wild fields where no winds blow,

Thou canst not now those visions keep

That so delight thee : they must go

Into the dreamy past

" Awake, O senses to the wear
Of life, the caution and the strain.

SISTER MARY CHRISTINA 273

There is yet much to do and bear
Ere death shall be the end of pain
And peace shall come at last

" Return, weak heart, take up thy weight.
And bear it through another day :
The joy that seemed so real of late,
Like other joys, must sink away
Into the dreamy past.

" Return to labour and to pain :
Forget not grief, nor seek for rest :
Sigh not for death : 'tis worse than vain :
Death will end all when God sees best ;
And peace shall come at last."

*' When love makes all things easy,
From the greatest to the least ;
When death doth seem a bridal,
And life a lengthened feast —
O Love, how can I show my love.
When love makes all things light ?
Bear patiently thy weight of joy,
And love with all thy might."

^ I know, my Lord, that at the last
I needs must come to you :
Enough of harm is in the past :
Ah yes, I know this too.
But now my heart and spirit fail,
And I forget your face ;
And knowledge is of no avail,
Without your grace.

** I have offended you, the one
Most sweet and perfect Good :
I know that I have trampled on
Your passion and your blood.
Resists my heart all stonily,
And I forget your face;
And what shall knowledge profit me
Without your grace ?
I. T

274 COVENTRY PATMORE

^' From him to whom much has been given.

Much also shall be asked '

You said to me» my life, my heaven.

When in your light I bask^ ;

But all your words have been in vain.

And I forget your face ;

And knowledge, Lord, has been my bane.

Without your grace.

^ In deserts ip^ere there is no light,

I, wandering, seek repose :

Arise, O Love, upon the night,

And scatter all your foes :

Raise up the h^ut and soul that fail,

And I will seek your face ;

And much shall knowlec^ then avail.

Joined with your grace."

III.

The following letters give evidence of her deep
sympathy with her father's later poetry. It would
be difficult to find sounder or more appreciative
criticism than they contain.

"St. Leonards,

"April nth, '75.

"My dearest Papa,

"At last Sunday is come, and I can write about
your Ode which Mama so kindly copied out It would be
impertinence in me to praise it, but I can say that it gave
me very great pleasure, and new pleasure every time I read
it To say nothing of the general sense, in which I flatter
myself I quite understand you, you may imagine how,
under the circumstances, these lines went to my heart :

* The daisied path of poverty '
and

• The brightest third of the dead virtues three.' *

* Both passages are from "The Standards." There are numerous
allusions to the Odes in these letters. I have not thought it
necessary to give references in every instance.

SISTER MARY CHRISTINA 275

1 hope Dr. Newman has read it. When shall I have the
others ? And what did the ' Pall Mall ' say of it ? I wish
you had brought the critique. Ever since I read it and
imap[ined all Uie rest you have been writinp^, I have been
indulging in a sort of ecstasy of pride at being your
daughter, a very innocent sort of pride, I hope. (You see
I am so gushing, because nuns have no hearts !) As for
myself, dear Papa, I will not say anything about it : some
things are too good to be spoken of; but you must thank
God for me, and yourself for letting me be a nun. I know
many people do not think we are nuns at all ; but that is
so much the better, if our Lord thinks we are so. I had no
time to think of anything the day you were all here, but of
course, since then, everything has gone on with the usual
delightful monotony, which I know you envy.

"* How beautiful Bertha's paintings are : she does very much
better than I ever saw her do before ; and she seems to
think very little of them. Please will you remember to give
Tenny my love and thanks for his note ? I hope that he
tasted the wedding-cake.* ... If you mean to prophesy a
persecution do not go away and leave it all to me; you
can come and die in defence of the convent You made
me so happy by what you said when we were first coming
out of the Church the other day : I often repeat it to myself.
" Your loving child in J. C,

•' S. Mary Christina.
" S. H. C ;."•

"The Convent,
"Feb. 1 2th, '76.
"Mv DEAR Papa,

" When I have received two letters and two Odes, I
suppose you think it is high time to answer and return
thanks. Indeed, it seems to me that poverty is indeed as
you say * to have all things without care or thought;* for
I have only to express a wish, as in this case, or even to form
it sometimes, and the thing arrives. Thank you very much
for sending the Odes. No one ever succeeded before in
speaking of God truly in verse and at the same time not

' Her cake, provided for the day when she made her vows.
* Society of the Holy Child Jesus.

^^ COVENTRY PATMORE

iscTcamM^ instead of singiitg ' as yxm a^icc ^^d to»c of

^ 'b poems. That ymM s&otiici know wfiat 3^oawmBtto

^ji0W otbcf^, viz- the perfecticio cif the state of omvi
not so strange as that yoti malcgsta nd perfectly wiiat i
the real happin«s of religkww Kfe (and tt ts real v bo*
niircimaiitjc and coinmofi the eactcrior may look, as it
in om society. Was it not curious ?— 1 tbou^lit so omch oi«
you on the Feast of the Espousals of the Biased Vir^t
Ijiough I had no idea of the intention ^ you tell me of, f
hope she will help you to do it very irell- I have been
thinl^^ that it seemed like a beautiful ^iMM^tf^v^, if I daie^
gay sD« oo the part of God, as He had beoDfue oian aiidfl
gi0t woman, to exalt a woman so higtily that enottg^h caimot
lie said of her dignity. How tnie the last part of this Ode
, |s^ abow^ t**c c^lc looking like a rag or stone ; and yet it has
^^^^er been said before, . . , i am much better th&n T**^hcn
yfju saw me^ and shall not be allowed to cooimlt suicide,
jjowever much I might wish to do so So please do not be^
c&nccme^ for my health. I only hope you are all as welL ■

" Your loving chilcl»
[ *'S- M,A.RV CHRl^rfKA.

I - -S. H. C. J."

**Coinfent H. C. Jesos, ^B

V - „ " November aSth, '77.

.- « MY DEAR Papa,

^ " I do not know how it is ; but we always say so little

when we meet, that I must write to you too. I must have
the pleasure of telhng you again how often your words
come to my rnmd and answer my thoughts. I was wonder-
ing one aay it it was pleasing to God to hear us say the
same Pf 'Jll^^^.^nd over again, and I remembered what
you sf y To !^^n!V ^*"«ng its mother to repeat her little
*?"^- fines from Kr^^ myself in little trials, I often repeat
these Unes from Frederick's' last letter.' Splendid privations,'

I p„— bably the " into.n«.; >.
« The C^^'^'s PurchasS?' was a wish for inspiration to write

« »»,' t"w *^^ ^is art
T ^^ the babe's wK^ •
^I^^Uttle song 's^ J^^^^ ^s mother to repeat

The i? aithful for ever " and « Victories of Love."

SISTER MARY CHRISTINA 277

etc : they make me ashamed to complain of so little. These
are only specimens : I cannot tell you how often such pieces
occur to me. If, as you said, Lourdes answered all ycm
expectations, I hope before very long to see tiie beginning
of your third and gpreatest work. The water you broi^ht
is a great treasure to me : I sometimes dip my finger in it
for a great treat, but I am very much afraid of using it up.
My class are learning part of Milton, and I told them how
he borrowed and imitated,* though I did not say who found
it out

" Henry has written a parody on Wordsworth's ' Ode on
Immortality ' : he is going to send it to me, and if it is good
perhaps you would like to see it, if you do not think it was
too presumptuous to parody such a thing. He did it some
time ago, and says I might not care to see it, as perhaps I
do not know the Ode. For which I told him that I knew it
by heart before he could spell three letters. So perhaps he
will be too indignant to reply at all. Do you know a great
gale is prophesied, that was to come to-day ? I think it
must have come too soon, for there was a very great wind
a short time ago : it blew in some windows in the town.
The sea must have been very high that night I always
imagine you down on the beach lookii^ at it when those
storms come. If you are going to write to me, please do so
before next Sunday, as Advent will be coming.

" Your loving child,

** S. Mary Christina.
"S. H.CJ."

"The Convent,

"April 14th.
•• My dear Papa,

" You must be expecting to hear about the Odes
before now. If I say anything foolish you must remember
I am one of the 'hare-brained brood' you mention. In the
first place, St Peter says of St Paul's Epistles that • there
are in them certain things hard to be understood, which
many unlearned and unstable wrest, as they do the other
Scriptures, to their own damnation.' I think that might be

' Patmore detected in Milton much suggestion from Spenser's
shorter poems.

278 COVENTRY PATMORE

said of the * Odes,' ' Remembered grace,' for instance ; but
anyone who would offend God on such a consideration
could never have really known and loved Him. Of course
ypu know about the theology of it better than I do. That
last part, from *the last new ^ Oracle/ how true it is. Some
lines have more truth than can be said, as ' Many speak
wisely,' etc As the beautiful poem says, these (compared
to the 'Angel*) are Mike a thrush's song' (compared to a
lark's). * Eros' is exquisite: it is enough to say that I
know what you mean : I like this line very much, ' It is a
Spirit, though it seems red gold ; ' but, for poetical beauty
apart from the purely spiritual, the beginning to ' whither
they depart' is wonderful and delicious. 'Let be' of
course you know is most profound, but let me say so toa
' Another is mistook through his deceitful likeness to his
look,' is one of those pieces of wisdom that see round the
comer, like a looking-glass. What a comfort it is to think
that God really knows everyone ; for we know very little
of each other, I am more and more convinced. ' Legem
tuam dilexi ' is delightful to me, and I do not know how
people can object to it while God, of whom we name so
many attributes, is defined to be ' A simple Act ' by the
Xtian doctrine books. The ' Toys ' is very, very touch-
ing : I like it very much. ' Magna est Veritas ' is delightful,
and ends with a touch of som^hing too deep to be called
satire. It seems to me quite true about the ingenious
blaspheming, though I am afraid the last word is all the
credit they often get I knew the first IX. Odes by
heart before, and they very often * say themselves to me/
whether I like it or not: it is like a tune that will finish itself
if you begin it, because each note is the natural consequence
of the former. Of course the * Deliciae,' etc., is too beauti-
ful to praise. I think the Odes are very like Holy
. Scripture in being so simple that anyone might imagine
\ they understood all there is, and so profound diat few will
I really do so. They are also like Scripture in the way
Shakespere is, viz., in being intensely human, and in not
saying the words allowed to express the thing, but the
tkzn^ itself. It is very painful to think how most people
will prefer such verse as 's, but that kind of sorrow we

Quoted from memory. Patmore had written " high."

SISTER MARY CHRISTINA 279

have to feel for everything really gcxxL There are two
lines in one Ode that I could wish were not there. If I
have said anything presumptuous, please forgive it With
much love and many thanks,

" Your loving child,

" S. Mary Christina.
" S. H. C. J."

CHAPTER XIX

LONDON UFE, CARLYLE, RUSKIN

FROM 1862 till 1874 Patmore's life had been
for the most part that of a recluse. While
he was at Heron's Ghyll his visitors had been
few : he did not care to have many guests together
in the house ; and when his particular friends visited
him, preferred that they should come alone, so that
he m^ht enjoy their society undisturbed. Towards
the end of this period, he began to feel detached
from the quiet countiy life, was already, for reasons
of economy, contemplating a change of abode, and
foresaw tluit he might shortly become more de-
pendent on ordinary social life. In 1874 1 persuaded
him to become a candidate for the Savile Club, of
which some of his friends were already members.
He was elected by the Committee at the first oppor-
tunity, but failed to make much use of his privileges.
The great majority of members were considerably
his juniors, and Patmore, who always found himself
more at home in small companies, was not specially
adapted to club life. He retired after a few years of
membership ; nor did he at any time, before or after,
join or become a candidate for any other club.

Late in 1874, he left Herons Ghyll, and shortly
after took a furnished house on Campden Hill, where
he was able to renew his intimacy with many of
his old friends. He sought out the Prae-Raphaelite
circle, by this time somewhat dispersed by changes
of abode, and disunited by divergence of aim ; but
some of its members often came to his house, es-

LONDON LIFE, CARLYLE. RUSKIN 281

pecially on Sunday evenings. He saw too, at this
time, many other of his former friends — Mr. and
Mrs. Procter, Lord Houghton, Locker- Lampson,
F.T. Palgrave, Carlyle,and Ruskin — ,and made many
new acquaintances among men of distinction in the
literary world. There is no record to show when
he had first come to know Carlyle. In 1853, Carlyle
had, as we have seen, written him a high encomium
on " Tamerton Church Tower," which was the pre-
lude to other letters in praise of the several instal-
ments of the •• Angel," (see vol. ii.). Patmore had sent
him a copy of the nine Odes privately printed in
1 868, and now lent him the manuscript of such further
Odes as he had written before 1875, (p. 87). Un-
fortunately there is nothing to show what opinion
Carlyle formed of these. In all probability it was
conveyed verbally ; for it was at this time that the in-
tercourse between the two was most frequent. It
may however be inferred from the following letters
and memoranda, that he was at least as favourably
impressed by the later as he had been by the earlier
poems.

The friendship which was thus renewed during the
;ar of Patmore's residence in London, was main-
lined with the fullest cordiality till Carlyle's death.
Patmore writes to his wife :

" I mean to take advantage of the time I am obliged to be
here to see more of Carlyle. He seems quite pleased if I
go and take a walk with him. The unison of our likes and
dislikes is quite funny. You should hear him pour his

scorn on , and, I believe he is the only man living,

besides myself, who dares to think, much less speak, evil
of Heine,"

"Tavistock Hotel. Wednesday.
••Mv Dear Mary,

". . . . The evening with Carlyle, who was quite
affectionate, he complaining, two or three times, that I had

to wiite, almost
Iherary

^Yoors

J

P",^'

to HastiiigSv when we
wii^rto^eCariyle
i^re aflectiocuite to
vithofit fus beggiii g me to eotne
k^ mmpinifwi tsi his afternoon
km^ e^ieiiin^ in hU
^ a CDod fisiCQer, and never thou^hl
i of CTwHa Jigli q g fchn^agy rog Aan I ^mnld have thought
.,.r.,>,%^#i^-Ml£*^ ^m|^l^lliyMijg«. ^atfa||mee^ I in-ms surprised
m find boiw'icfy fw^ people he mm, thongii be appeared to
be ^ froiB di^eult oCacce^. There was seldoin anybody
else with him when I spent my evenings at his house. I
toU hko ofice that 1 had just Unbhed reading his life of
Fraicricfc the Gteat, and t made one or ti^o remarks show*
ing my appfectation of It. I was quite astonished by the
pathetic way in which he expressed himself pleased by what
1 -=i!^ snd hi^ hyTnb!*^ c^mn^;:!!!!!: that he had heard so few
sympathetic observations concerning his great work."

"When I bade good-bye to him, Carlyle, wth his hand on
the open door, and without any connection with our previous
conversation, said to me : * Why don't you write a history
of the Anglo-Saxons ? You are the only man in England
who could do it.' I have not the least idea what he meant,
for I know little of history, and never professed to have any
particular interest in the Anglo-Saxons."

Patmore's friendship with Ruskin was also of
long standing: it had certainly been mature in 1851,
(p. 86). Ruskin had been a frequent visitor at
Patmore*s house during his first wife's lifetime, and
they had corresponded, though somewhat inter-
mittently, during the years of Patmore s seclusion.

A

LONDON LIFE, CARLYLE, RUSKIN 283

Ruskin had, in i860, stood godfather to Henry
John, Patmore's youngest son, and two years later,
had obtained for the second son, Tennyson, a no-
mination to the Blue-coat school. Personal inter-
course between them was renewed during Patmore's
residence in London : Ruskin, influenced no doubt
by his warm regard for Emily Aueusta Patmore,
had been much interested in the eldest daughter,
whose appearance and manner he admired (p. 269),
and was now specially impressed by Bertha Patmore s
drawings, about which, as his letters show, he con-
tinued for many years to give valuable advice. A
considerable number of Ruskin's letters to Patmore
have been preserved, and selections from them are

fiven in vol. ii. Unfortunately but one letter of
atmore*s to Ruskin has come to hand.
All but the first of the following extracts from Pat-
more's letters refer to visits paid by him to Brantwood
in 1875 and in 1879. As none of these are dated, it
is impossible to say to which of these visits they refer.
These, as well as the correspondence, give evidence
of a warm friendship, not incompatible with some
rather rough sparring, which however does not seem
to have marred their amicable relations. The corre-
spondence apparently ended in 1 880.
From Campden Hill Patmore writes:

''Mr. Ruskin cameexpressly from Denmark Hillyesterday
to give Ifertha a lesson in colour perspective. You can't
think how he seems struck with the drawing she gave you.
He said, * I would give the world to be able to do anj'thing
like it!!* and he said that William Hunt's things were
coarse, and had nothing like the * exquisite sense of beauty '
shown in Bertha's work. He wants Bertha to go to Coniston
that he may be able to give her more time. He is coming
again next week, to give Bertha another lesson.'*

While on a visit to Ruskin he writes :

** I spend the morning — the time when Ruskin is at work

284 COVENTRY PATMORE

1 rowuw on the lake by myself. The lake is some 2
or eq^t mws long, and perhaps three-fourths of a mile wide^
with great mountains about the head of it whereBrantwood
is, and lower hills at the other end. Hitherto the clouds
have never left the tops of the higher hills, but there has
been only a shower or two, and it has been good weather
for walking or rowii^. Yesterday afternoon I had a long
walk widi Ruskin, and a great deal of interesting talk. Mr.
and Mrs. Severn are here, and a gentleman named Buigeas^
who seems to be a kind of artistic assistant to Rusldn,
whose attention is at present given to Botany. He is at
present copying a patch of moss on a rock-side above some
water, in which water he sits half the day — of course by Ae
help of a chair and a foot-stooL"

** Ruskin's ordinary manners are courteous and obligiiqr
almost to an embarrassing d^ree, but a little scratch oc
contradiction will put him out strangely. I was walkii^
with him and Severn among the mountains near Coniston,
and we stopped to admire the beauty of a wild strawbeny
plant, which was in firuit and flower at the same time, in a
nook by a little gully. As we went on Rusldn said to me,

* I suppose, Patmore, that we are the only three men in
England who would have passed that plant without eating
the firuit' I, shy of praise for such a singular sensibility,
replied, * I believe, Ruskin, that you are the only man in
England who would have thought of eating it' He was
evidently hurt, and was quite silent for some time. Another
time I praised a little book of old Catholic devotion, called
the * Spiritual Combat,' which I saw among his books.

* O, do you think so much of it ? Now, it seems to me to
be drivel : how do you account for that ? ' said he. I replied,

* I suppose that you have not had the particular experience
which explains it' This also manifestly annoyed him."

•* Ruskin told me that, to hear talk of my poetry,

was like seeing a little devil jumping upon a bed of lilies."

"Nothing can be kinder and more sedulously courteous
than Ruskin ; and the Sevems are a delightfully pleasant,
lively, and unaffected couple. My whole day, every day
since I have been here, has been filled with healthy, active
amusement — ^rowing in the morning, walking up the

LONDON LIFE, CARLYLE, RUSKIN 285

mountains in the afternoon ; and talking, laughing, and
listening to nice unlearned music in the evenings."

" I leave here to-morrow for Carstairs. I don't expect to
be so well oflf there as here. It is a great country house,
always full of people— eighteen or twenty people at least
sitting down to dinner every day. Mr, Monteith is extremely
good company, but of course I shall not see very much of
him when I shall be only one among so many guests. Among
these however there are pretty sure to be some pleasant
and probably distinguished people, and I daresay I shall
have a good time, though not so good as I am having here,
with Ruskin almost all to myself. He is very fond of talking
about the Catholic Religion, and says he thinks it likely he
shall become a Catholic some day — but I think it is attrac-
tive to him only from the idea of pleasant intellectual
repose which it presents to him. The arguments for its
truth strike him just for the moment, but leave no impression,
as far as I can see."

" Another journey of seven hours brought me yesterday
to this house, which though pleasant enough in its way, is
not so much in my line as Brantwood. Carstairs House is
quite like a palace, with lots of company and good living.
The Monteiths are very friendly, good people, and Mr.
Monteith himself is a man of fine literary taste ; but the rest
of the company is such as one commonly meets in country
houses, and I find some difficulty at times in keeping up the
talk with my next neighbour, who knows as little of books
as I do of grouse.

''Society is not my 'place,' as you say it i.s. I would
rather have one hour's walk and talk with you in the garden,
than all the pleasure I have had from 'Society,' since I
saw you — although my time has not been passed unpleas-
antly, either here or at Coniston."

,v

CHAPTER XX

LOURDES

DURING the Heron's Ghyll days Patmore
rarely left home. In 187 1 however, having
to go abroad for family reasons^ he took the
opportunity of visiting the principal battle-fields of
the war of 1870. In this he had been keenly inter-
ested, and his political views as well as the anti-
French prejudice which he had acquired in his youth,
when he had spent some unhappy months in Paris
(p. 36), made him a warm partisan of Germany. This
sympathy however had not prevented him from
writing a lampoon on a telegram sent by the King
of Prussia to his wife after one of the great battles.
The epigram exists in many versions, of which I
give the following, which his family believe to be
the original :

" This is to say, my dear Augusta,
\ We've had another awful buster :
'^ * Ten thousand Frenchmen sent below !

Thank God from whom all blessings flow ! "

This was evolved impromptu during dinner at
\y ^ Heron's Ghyll, and was, as Patmore used to say,

" the most popular poem he had ever written." *

* As no date is given for the composition of these lines, the
actual occasion of them must remain matter for conjecture. The
" Times " of Aug. 8, 1870, gives the following referring to Woerth :

" Xif^ William to Queen Augusta : Wonderful luck ! This new
great victory won by Fritz. Thank God for his mercy. We have
taken thirty cannon, two eagles, six mitrailleuses, 4,000 prisoners.
MacMahon received reinforcement from the main army.

/\

%

LOURDES 287

On his return from this tour he wrote to his wife
as follows :

"Tavistock Hotel, 1872.

" Dear Mary,

** I have had an interesting little tour at the expense
of £s more than it would have cost me to return by Colc^^ne.
I have been carefully over the greatest battle-fields — Saar-
bnicken, Regonville, Gravelotte) St. Privat, and have visited
the principal forts of Paris, as well as St Cloud — which is
totally destroyed, town and chateau. The devastation in
Paris is enormous. On Wednesday, I drove thirty-five
miles, at least ten through absolute ruin. The Bois de
Boulogne is not much hurt, and none of the villages
occupied by the Germans have been damaged, except two
or three burned down for strategical purposes.

" Nearly all the ruins are the wanton work of the French
themselves : not only of the communists but of the persons
in command during the Siege.

" I saw plenty of Germans — soldiers and others — in and
about Paris. The murderous ill-feeling seems to have quite
departed. French and German were talking tc^ether in
the carriage with me from Metz.

" Yours C P."

He was greatly struck by the attitude of the
German people, and confirmed in his opinion that
" War is the ordained way of all alive." His obser-
vations made on this tour inspired his Ode " Peace," *

*'A victorious salute (loi guns) was fired off upon the field of
battle."

This seems likely to have been the message which instigated the
epigram, which however it only partially justifies.

Nor do I know how it got about, as it did immediately and
generally. A photograph was published, showing the King of
Prussia kneeling on the battle-field, with Patmore's lines below. I
have heard that others first saw them at their village post office.
They are quoted in Lowe's " Life of Prince Bismarck."

* The passage in " Peace," which specially refers to this jour-
ney, is as follows :

" Let those whose pleasant chance

Took them, like roe, among the German towns,

A

-^

288 COVENTRY PATMORE

written some three years later, from which I have
quoted a passage at the end of Chapter XVI.

Between 1871 and 1893 Patmore made several
other visits to the Continent Among these were
four pilgrimages to Lourdes: in 1877, ^^7^» i^i
and 1885. His friend Monsignor Rouse was has
companion on the first two visits, the present Mrs.
Patmore on the third, and his second daughter.
Bertha, on the last. In 1879 Mary Patmore took
her stepson Henry to Lourdes. The "intentions*
which prompted these expeditions are explained in
the following letters, in Patmore's autobiograplqr
(vol. ii.) and m other letters and memoranda (pp. 257
and 277). His main motive was to strengmen hn
spiritual life by complete obedience to the wiU of the
Church: he desired too to obtain inspiratioQ for
his Ode, the ^'Child's Purchase **; also to benefit
his second daughter, who had been lame from in-
fancy, and his youngest son, Henry, who su£Rsred
from an affection of one eye, the sight of whidi lie
eventually lost The following letters were written
during the two eariier pilgrimages.

" All my preparations are made, and I start for Lourdes
to-morrow, at 7 o'clock. I have a presentiment that good
will come of it It is a good way of declaring to one's-self
and others that the Church's fashions are not changeable,
and that it is as well to do what her general voice recom-
mends as well as what she commands. I am in great luck
to have secured Dr. Rouse's co-operation as well as corn-

After the war that plucked the fangs from France,

Wth me pronoimce

Whether the frequent black, which then arrayed

Child, wife, and maid.

Did most to magnify the sombreness of grief,

Or add the beauty of a staid relief

And freshening foil.

To cheerful-hearted Honour's ready smile ! "

LOURDES 289

panionship, for he has promised me that his intentions
shall be mine. In order not to dissipate the singleness of
my purpose in this journey, I intend not to stop to see any
sights or take any unnecessary rest till I reach Lx)urdes,
and until I have finished my purpose there. After that I
shall feel at liberty to look about me. I fear however that
we shall have very bad weather. A great storm is tele-
graphed as approaching from the Atlantic, and the glass is
now fast falling. I hope the journey there will be disagree-
able, since peas in my boots would not consist with my
constitution. When you hear the wind howling on Tuesday
afternoon, you will be able to think how delightfully sick I
probably am ! "

[1877]

'* We left Paris at eight on Tuesday night, and travelled
by train twenty hours without stopping, till we reached
Lourdes — which for beauty and sublimity defies all descrip-
tion. It is a valley of small mountains, about 1,000 feet
high, with the higher, snow-clad mountains — which look as
high as the highest Alps — peeping over their shoulders into
this beautiful little nest. The town itself is wonderfully
picturesque. Like Freiburg, *only more so.' The air of
the Pyrennees is as fine as ether. I got strong in it
immediately.

*' The effect of this climate on the health and spirits is
quite intoxicating. The air is cool and sharp, but the sun
is like a hot fire close by. One may put up one's hands to
warm them by it The world looks like a jewel for bright-
ness. Snow-fields, thirty miles off, look half a mile away.
Little lizards run about the rocks in the hot light, and
beautiful half-butterflies, half-grasshoppers, leap and fly
wherever one moves."

" Lourdes. Saturday.

[1877]

" Dear Mary,

" I was very glad to have your note. I think ever)-*
day that it was quite wicked not to bring you here, you
would have been so entirely delighted. We have come in
the very nick of time to escape all excursionists and all
sensational pilgrimages.

" There are plenty of individual * pilgrims,' as the news-
papers would say ; and they do their praying and their

I. U

I

290 COVENTRY PATMORE

visiting in a quiet, pleasant style, which suits us .better than
the ten-thousand-strong visitations of the season. The* laiA
considerable pi^mage — a month or two ago— actuaUy
consisted of exScAy ten thousand mem — ^who came aU at
once in ten trains of a thousand each.

^ The scenery and the weather are heavenly, the former
for beycmd the best that I expected. It is as great as liie
Alps— fl/., snow mountains, gfloo ft high, but it is witfaal
sweet, soft and civilized. The mountains are all in lovi^
curves and piques : — ^not in the brutal and dog-tooth out-
lines of the Alps."

[1877]

** Lourdes itself is quite the loveliest place I ever saw. It
is in the very centre of all the finest scenery— just as Inter-
laken is in die Alps, and all the famous places, Pau, Caute-
rets, Bagnires de Bigonre, Eaux Chaudes, etc, are wi^n a
mornings drive. We intend to stay here till Monday, and
shall then probably go on to Saragossa and Pampeluna.

"Yours ever C P.*

"Lourdes, Oct: xxth:

[1877]
** Dear Wife,

** All is going on well with us here. We have given

up making any further excursions in order that we may have
the next few days for our special purpose. The longer I
am here the more I like it The climate is heavenly, the
people all nice — and unlike the Swiss as can be. One or
two great pilgrimages of from 1,000 to 2,000 people come
every day at six in the morning, say their prayers all day,
and leave in torch-light processions at night, sajdng the
Litany of Lx)retto from the Grotto to the Station. It makes
railways quite poetical. We are seriously thinking of
going on to Manresa, near Saragossa, if we find the journey

at all practicable

" Yours, C P."

" Lourdes. Friday Morning.
[1878]
" Dear Mary,

" We are here safe after a not intolerable journey.

LOURDES 291

It seems like coming fumu^ the place is in every way so
delightful. The hills and houses are looking like jewels
in the quiet ardour of the sun. We oflfered our Masses for
Henry and our hopes of him are increased by a miracle we
were lucky enough to come in for yesterday. A peasant girl,
with the most exquisite look of innocence and gratitude,
had just come from the bath entirely cured of a paralysis
of three years' standing. We had some talk with her and
her mother as she was walking oflT with no touch of lameness,
and the limb, which had been hitherto entirely insensible,
restored to feeling and full strength. There could be no
mistake about it. Rachel could not have acted the part

" We are going to spend to-day at Pau Give

my love to all and tell them to work well for Henry till our

time here is over

"Yours, C P."

[1878]

"There was a pilgrimage of some 2,000 persons here
yesterday, and it was very striking to see them going to the
train at night, in a procession five abreast, and half a mile
long, holding lighted candles and singing hymns.

"We are getting on here as well as possible. The
weather is lovely. At night it rains in the valleys and
snows on the mountains, and all day the sun shines with
such sweet ardour that earth looks like a living jewel. On
Monday, we went to Gavamie, a village on the frontiers of
Spain, and about 5,000 feet above the sea. There, from
Cliffs 5,000 feet higher, the glaciers, melting, pour down
cataracts into the most awful cauldron of dark walls. One
cataract, the highest in Europe, falls 1400 feet at one leap,
500 feet higher than the Staubach, the highest in Switzer-
land, which I daresay you remember. The scene is said
altogether to be the grandest in Europe. Lx)rd Houghton,
who has seen most of the fine things in the world, told me
he had never seen anything equal to it

" We find that our plan, of hiring a carriage and going
from town to town for a week, is impracticable on account
of the formation of the mountains, the gorges of which end
in ' cul-de-sacs,' instead of passing into other gorges, as in
most mountain countries. So we have settled down here
till Tuesday, when we think of returning.

" I think I get what I pray for here (Lourdes), because I

292 COVENTRY PATMORE

do not pray so eagerly as most people do. I remember
that the place is one of miracle, and that the less one seems
to do of oneself the more likely Our Lady is to work for us.
*^ Stjcbn of tbc Cross, I remember, says that this absence
of eagerness is a great secret of successful prajrer. He says
ind^l that it is best never to ask for anything, but simfdy
to represent to God how it stands with us, and leave it to
Him to mend it or not as it seems best to Him."

** Lourdes. Monday,
[1878]

**Dear, our plans of continuing our travels have been
thrown out by the break-up of the weather. We have had
four days of weather here such as I have never seen or felt
anywhere for beauty and pleasantness, but this morning the
rain is falling in torrents, and we shall probably have no
more settled fine days. On Friday and Saturday we had
long drives among the mountains, on Friday to B^tharram,
iiriiere there is another famous shrine, and such a Calvary —
a mountain 8,000 feet high, from the first station to the
last, each station havii^ a Romanesque Chapel, or rather
church, of the fourteenth or fifteenth century, of beauty that
would drive Champneys crazy. From the top you see a
vast fertile plain with towns, villages, and rivers on the
one hand, and chestnut covered slopes and snowy peaks
on the other. It is a place to live in, and I propose to let
the Mansion, and come and settle here altogether as soon
as possible. There are not many people here, but several
of them are English — and not disagreeable. The Grotto
and Church are well filled, but not thronged, and everything
is a deal too pleasant for a pilgrimage.

" Is Bertha cured yet ? If so she should send her boot to
the Grotto. I was talking to a very pleasant Irish priest
who lives here. He has seen dozens of miracles, and speaks
of them as if he rather wished for a change.

" Yours C P."

" Lourdes. Wednesday.
[1878]
" My Dear Mary,

" Don't give up hope yet : I look to next Sunday as
the anniversary of the day of my last visit, and it is on that

LOURDES 293

day I expect to get again all and perhaps more than all I
came for.

" I don't think it would do, on the whole, to exchange
our icebergs for these glaciers. There would be too great
a break in the continuity of life. We must " better our-
selves " where we are, and not by changing our places, like
London cooks. This however is a place to which you must
come some day. Even the material beauty of this position
is past all description.

" We are just back from a two days' excursion to Luz, St
Sauveur, Gavarnie and the Br^he de Roland.

" Yours, C. P,"

7^* r

CHAPTER XXI.

/

^/' HENRY PATMORE {J-^

I.

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE PRINTED WITH HENRY PATMORE'S POEMS^

" T TT ENRY JOHN, third son of Coventry Patmore,

I 1 was bom at Finchley on the 8th of May, i86a

I I His mother died in consumption two years
after his birth, and Henry probably inherited
her delicate constitution. As a child his health caused
much anxiety, though he seemed in great part to outgrow
this weakness after l^ginning his school life at St. Cuthbert's
Collie, Ushaw, in 1870. He confessed long afterwards to
have suflfered keenly on first leaving home from the sensi-
tiveness of his disposition, which made him shrink from
intercourse with his schoolfellows. But the gentle little
boy, who stood by shy and inactive while his companions
enjoyed their rough sports, easily outstripped them in their
studies, and year by year, as he rose from the lowest to the
highest form, seldom failed to carry off the first prize. His
continued success is mentioned in his letters home with
perfect simplicity.

" In 1877 Henry passed the London University Matricula-
tion in Honours. It was intended that he should remain at
St. Cuthbert*s for several years and read for the B.A. and
M.A. degrees, with some idea of his taking a classical pro-
fessorship in the college. But in the course of the next
summer he was attacked by a malady in the left eye which
soon proved incurable, and all idea of returning to Ushaw
after the vacation had to be abandoned. The disease was
slow in its progress and attended with great pain, which,
with the many other sufferings that were crowded into the

^ A hundred and twenty-five copies of this little volume were
printed by Mr. Henry Daniel a year after Henry's death.

HENRY JOHN PATMORE.
From a photograph, 1875.

VOL. L

To Ja« t- -w^i

1j

;IJ

i^i

HENRY PATMORE 295

last years of his short life, were borne almost without a
murmur. By the end of another twelvemonth the sight
was quite gone, but he was then able to use the right eye
with tolerable comfort.

" From time to time, during his school days, Henry had
written trifles showing originality. But it was only in the
spring of 1880 that he began to look upon writing as pos-
sibly his vocation. Some of the poems now printed were
composed during that year ; but his time was chiefly taken
up with a Grecian love tale, delicate and beautiful in thought,
and executed in a powerful and original style. Several
other prose pieces written during this and Uie following
years are disguised histories of his own thoughts and long-
ings ; one only is the simple story of his love for the half
real, half imaginary * Flora.'

" In the spring of 188 1 Henry went out to the Cape with
some friends, a sea-voyage having been recommended as
likely to strengthen his constitution. He returned in July,
with the firm conviction that a great illness was coming
upon him, and in the beginning of August was seized with
a violent congestion of the right lung. For six weeks he
lay in a burning fever between life and death. It was
thought scarcely possible that his strength should rally
after the extreme weakness to which he was reduced by this
attack. The change came very suddenly. One afternoon,
having up to that time scarcely had strength to say a few
necessary words each day, he began talking merrily with
his sisters who were sitting with him, and asked them for
writing materials. It was during the long and weary con-
valescence which began thus unexpectedly that most of his
poems were written.

" By the summer of 1882 Henry had so recovered as to be
able to think of choosing a profession. His former idea of
a professorship was abandoned, and the law fixed on.
After a month's trial, to prove his ability for the necessary
amount of labour, he was articled to Mr. Henry Watson
Parker, of St. Michael's Rectory, Comhill, and comfortably
settled in a lodging at Hampstead. He entered on his new
duties with zeal ; the change of climate and occupation
seemed beneficial to his health, and everything promised
success. But about Christmas time the old feeling of weak-
ness came upon him, and, though he struggled bravely
against it, he was forced to give in and ask for leave of

vj

c^

.'^^i<^'FTP

296 COVENTRY PATMQRE

absciice. It was wflHiigly granted, and on FdNmafy I5d^
1 883, Henry retnmed to his home at Hasttngi^ new a^rin
to leave it

"^ A few days later he caus^t adiSl fhaft hnmglbt m
pksaxisy. As tiie doctor irtio haul been called in left tiie
room ^diere Henry sat in an aroMiiair before the 6k, obs
of his sisters enteied it In a calm, firm voioe^ wfaidi in lhi>
adf proved the truth of his words, he said : ^ I had 1
my mind to die before the docte»r came.' He wai
np to his bed, and duoiq^h four, days and n^^ of :_
and laboured breathing lay peao^illy waiting for the
Now and then he ga^ed out a few words of thanks and
comfort to those n^io tended him, and n^ioean never Ibnjet
the br^t glow, as of a reflected lis^t,tfaat,^riien he spaat^
lit up me handscmie &ce on whidi death had alieaci^ set his
mark Early cm the afternocm irf' February a^di fadtt fidiier
sat at his bedside for the last tim^and Henry listened with
interest to a proposal that some of his poems should be

■ ' TshouldHk "

printed. ' I would Hke it very much,* he said Soon i
wards there came a great quiet ; Ae heavy gaapii^ 1
and he lay for two hours motionless, wim sott bre _
like a sleqoing diikL At half-past five he opened his eyes
and looked towards those ^o were watching by htt aide;
there were three gentle s^^ and without tiie al^^rtcat
strug^ he had passed away.

"Gertrude Patmore.*

" To the foregoing note I will only add that the following
verses, which I print to please Henry, are very inadequate
indications of the power and delicacy of the mind and heart
which produced them. At twenty years of age his spiritual
and imaginative insight were far beyond those of any man
I ever met ; and he instructed me much better than I could
instruct him in matters which I had. contemplated and
/ studied all my life.

''Once, when I had been commending his verses, he
laughed, and said that I should perhaps be known in future
1/ times as * the Father of Patmore,' Had he lived, his jest
would probably have become prophecy.
^ •* Coventry Patmore."

HENRY PATMORE 297

II.

These brief and touching records of a brother and
son are reprinted from the volume of poems to which
they serve as a preface. So far as biography is
concerned, it is not possible to supplement them to
any considerable extent. Henry Patmore was so
constitutionally shy and retiring, that none but his
relatives and most intimate friends could obtain any
very deep insight into his nature and character.
He was, I think, very seldom at home when I was
staying at Heron's Ghyll, and in the earlier Hastings
days he used habitually to absent himself from mesus
when visitors were there. Later, he was wont to
present himself in the study when his father was
talking with his friends. He would enter with a sort
of shy precipitancy, and remain long, an intent and
evidently critical listener — very rarely speaking, but
occasionally, with an obvious effort, making some
unexpected remark, which, like some of his father's
in his less intimate intercourse, was apt to break the
current of conversation. Patmore evidently encour-
aged his presence, thinking that it was to his son's ad-
vantage mat he should so uir emerge from his habitual
retirement ; but, to the visitor, the presence of this
silent and thoughtful youth, who gave no indication
whether his attitude were sympathetic or hostile,
was necessarily somewhat embarrassing, while his
occasional volcanic irruptions into the talk were
scarcely more conducive to intercourse than the
more usual silence. I heard afterwards that he was
in the habit of discussing with his sisters and friends
the conversations which had passed in his presence,
and that he used to explain how such and such a
point had been missed or mistaken, showing evidently
that it was shyness alone which had prevented him
from taking a full share in the talk. The same

298 COVENTRY PATMORE

reticence which he showed in personal intereourK
was evinced in his dealings with his written wofk.
He distinctly belonged to the ''genus cryptognm " ;
and, while he wrote with zest and enthusiasm, was
excessively loth to show his productions to anjrone*
even to ms &ther. For example, he had, wh3e
staying with the family of the lady who afterwards
became his father^s third wife, written a story wfaidi
he was advised by her to publish, as she thought
highly of it She uiged him to obtain my judgment on
it, which he had reluctantly consented to do ; but, as
is shown bv a letter printed below, he was immensely
relieved when he found that my departure freed him
from this dreaded ordeal. Mr. Greenwood tells me
that, when editor of '' The St James's Gazette" he
received from Henry some verses marked by un-
mistakable genius, but marred by certain boyish in-
accuracies which could have been easily corrected.
Henry asked him at the same time for an opinion as
to his poetic power. Mr. Greenwood would most
readily have printed the verses, could some slight
modifications have been made with the writer^s
consent ; but Henry had given him the strictest
injunctions not to write to him at his home, and had
given no other address or any opportunity of com-
munication; so the idea of publication had to be
dropped, to the editor's great regret, and for the
same reason he was unable to give him either advice
or encouragement. Henry also from time to time
sent verses to "The Spectator" and "Athenaeum"
(where they were printed) entirely without his
father's knowledge.

He did however, in time, conquer his reluctance
so far as his father was concerned, and was greatly
delighted and encouraged by the appreciation he
obtained. He usually pretended not to have read
Patmore's poems, and said to one of his intimates,

HENRY PATMORE 299

S I don't know what sort of a poet my father is — ^but
he is certainly an excellent critic/' and when asked
what had led him to this conclusion, he added, ''He
admires my verses," Patmore told me too that he
had once asked Henry if he had read " The Angel "
and the " Odes." Henry said, " No— and I don*t
want to." Patmore, rather piqued, said, '' May I ask
why ? " to which he answered, " Because they would
make me dissatisfied with my own work." However,
the letters given below prove that Henry had read
and appreciated his father's works. Nevertheless, I
feel sure that Patmore judged correctly in holding
that the great resemblance to them, both in thought
and style, which is often to be detected in the son's
verses, was in no degree due to imitation. Henry's
poetry seems to me to be essentially original, and
the similarity is, I think, solely due to heredity.

Some few characteristic stories of him seem worth
recording. During all his childish years his health
was so frail that it was thought necessary to keep
him under the constant supervision of his step-
mother or nurse, and he was never allowed to be
out of sight of one or other. At a certain stage
(probably when he was about ten years old) he felt
that this rigime was somewhat out of date, and de-
termined to assert his independence. Accordingly,
when all the family were in the hay-field and some one
was reading aloud, he left them, merely saying,
" Don't wait for me — I shall not be long," and walked
off. He did not return for many hours, and everj'-
one became extremely anxious. His father was just
preparing to have the ponds dragged, when he met
Henry returning, quite cool and collected, from a
walk to Uckfield, whither he had been to buy some
fish-hooks. His father pointed out to him what
trouble and misery his absence had caused, and told
him to have his supper and go to bed. He obeyed

300

without a murmur, evidently feeling that this was
but a smaH penalty to pay fw the successful assertion
of his independence. His intention was thoroughly
understood by his fiatther, iriio thenceforward released
him from an over-anxious control which he had
obviously ou^frown.

When he was about seventeen years old he went
wi& his£adher to Manresato make a '* retreat," which
was to hst three whole days. The retreat-master,
thinking that he needed some relief from the re-
straint and isolation, told him to go and amuse him-
self. He went acocndingly to London and was seen
by a lady who knew hun eating ices at Verrey's.
She went up to speak to him, but was at once told,
''You must not speak to me, I am in retreat/'

He took to smoking at a rather early age, to the
disgust of his sisters, who discouraged the habit in
ev«ry way. Walking with one of them one day, he
sudchmly asked, " Whose feast is it to-day ? " She,
greatly pl^ised that he should care to know, told
him the name of the saint ** Then/' said he» " I will
smoke an extra pipe in his honour/' and immediately
proceeded to " light up."

I must be content with these slender memorials
of one who, I confidently believe, might, had he lived,
have won a distinguished place among contemporary
poets. His inner and spiritual life was fully revealed
to his few intimates alone, but the extracts from his
poems, which I have printed below, indicate the
character of a mind which in many respects so closely
resembled his father's, while the few letters of his
which remain give evidence of many of the qualities
which his constitutional shyness concealed from all
but a very few. The combination of schoolboy humour
with a delicate sensitiveness for the feelings of others,
such as is seldom found before complete maturity is
reached, give these letters a peculiar charm which is

HENRY PATMORE 301

enhanced by the boyishness of the hand in which they
are written. They are only less valuable as proof of
the deep and unselfish, if somewhat over-anxious
love which was consistently shown him by Mary
Patmore.

There are many allusions to Henry in Patmore's
letters, of which none gives the father's estimate of
his son's character more eloquently than the follow-
ing :

" Hastings,

" March 10, 1883.
"Mv Dear Gosse,

"Thank you for your very kind letter. You are
among the few who are able to value rightly Henry's
talents, and I have some little things in his hand which will
give you the means of doing so more fully when I see you
again, which I hope will be soon, for you are always
welcome. But no one besides myself can know how sweet
and great a character he had — the most manly, truthful,
gentle, tender, humorous, reticent, affectionate, and religious
I ever knew. He died without ever having brought a stain
of impurity upon his conscience, and I leel prouder and ^
gladder of his innocent, dutiful life than if he had been the / ) c v (j
greatest poet of the age. /

" Yours very truly,

"C Patmore."

This letter to Dr. Gamett gives Patmore's view
of the relation of Henry's poems to his own :

*' Hastings,

"June4» 1884-
"Mv Dear Garnett,

" The characteristics of Henry's poems which have
struck you have struck several others. But the resemblance
of which you speak was no imitation. It was in his blood,
I suppose. I do not know that he ever read my poetry.
No word ever passed between us about it, except once,
about a year before he died, when I asked him if he had
ever read * The Angel,' and he said • No.' The only poets
he seemed to care for were the Greek Tragedians and

302 COVENTRY PATMORE

Shakespeare ; and of them he spoke with an intelligence
and grave ardour which showed that his carelessness about
the modem poets arose from no incapacity to understand
them.

" Yours ever truly,

"C Patmore."

III.

Henry Patmore's poems are known to very few.
The edition printed by Mr. Daniel was almost
entirely exhausted among Patmore's friends. Nine
of the poems are printed in the revised two-volume
edition of " The Angel in the House " and " Un-
known Eros." These may be considered to be suffi-
ciently accessible, and I refrain therefore from re-
printing them here, though they represent Henry
Patmore at his best: I give a few which appear
nowhere else than in the Oxford edition.

"Aphrodite.

" I love you, Florence, now not less
Than when I loved you first ;
But, O, for that divine distress
When love, a tender rosebud, burst
Blushing upon the thorn.
And life was like a wilderness,
Full of wild flowers and full of thirst.
All waving to the dewless morn.
Then Aphrodite rose surf-born,
Unveiled and innocent of shame.
I knew her by another name.
And felt you personally dear
All mine for love, yourself for fear."

"On a Tree in a * Wilderness.*

" From where I sit I often see

A certain tall, misshapen tree ;

And, when the wind moans from the West,

HENRY PATMORE 303

It rocks much more than do the rest :

It tosses its unhappy head

Now this way, now that way instead,

Now tries to catch a passing cloud,

Now almost breaks with being bowed ;

And all the others bow and nod,

And seem to think it wild and odd.

That ugly indecorous tree

I like, because it seems like me."

"Summer Evening.

" I like the crowds of foolish feet
And empty heads that fill the street ;
And well I know I may defy
A greater fool to come than I.
No bald head is so satisfied
With cynic sayings cut and dried :
No little child can love so much
A tinsel toy that breaks at touch."

" ' Your tears are not like other tears.

' Yes, they are salt and hot.

And speak of little griefs and fears

Which well might be forgot*

' Do you forget them, darling ? I

Love you for being small ;

Little the things which make you cry.

Big are the tears that fall,

And like the diamond-dew are clear ;

But dew has got this fault.

This difference from your diamond tears

It is not hot and salt' "

"Brockenhurst Bridge.

" If I knew how to paint or draw,
I'd show you what it was I saw :
I see it now, and much too well
For clumsy words of mine to tell.
If only I could draw or paint,
I'd make some little likeness faint :

I

306 COVENTRY PATMORE

might have developed to poetical attainment of the
most valuable kind.

Some of the nicknames and allusions which occur
in the following letters call for elucidation, ** Dear
old (59) Fish'* is Henr) 's stepmother, Mary Patmore,
There had been some family "chaff" about her age,
which she kept a secret Henry makes a ^ess at I
it, which, if I am right in fixing the date of the letter,
gives her five or six more years than she was
entitled to claim. She is called '* fish ** because the I
age of fishes is a mystery. ** Father Rickety " is
Father Rickerby. " Weenie *' is another sobriquet
of his for his stepmother. " Hags'* are his sisters,
Bertha and Gertrude, the term being derived from
Greek and English, and signifying '* holy women/'
** Oins " is the nurse. " Obs " and ** Obbie " are the
present Mrs. Patmore> then Miss Robson* "Ma"
is Gertrude Patmore. '* Dicky" is Henry himself.
In '*01d Chapney'* the present writer is forced
(reluctantly) to recognise himself

[Written from Manresa, 1876?]
" Dear old (59) fish,

" The butter is very good, praps they make it them-
selves. We had sardines at tea last night, cold beef this
mom* highish. Father Rickety gives your papa and I our
retreats. Mine begins to-morrow, I do what I like to-day
(Sunday) and come back with your papa (aged 72). Going
to mortlake to hear a 2nd (ain't it dreadful) mass. Walk
on Wimbledon Common in afternoon. • . . 5 p.m. Just
come in from W. Common. Having my malt. All the
novices are very gloomy. They're not allowed to read
novels, and all the pictures of female saints in the house
have beards added to them to make them less attractive.
The elder Jesuits have to keep patrolling up and down all
day to prevent the novices from escaping. Only one woman
ever comes within the walls, — the laundress, alat 64. Every

Q

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si.^ ?^^

^ ? % 5 * s^ s

V»t Ni

HENRY PATMORE 307

Saturday, when she brings the linen, she receives, on an
average, 5 proposals, besides innumerable billets, all ex-
pressive of enthusiastic devotion on the part of the writers.
All of the novices think her a perfect and blooming beauty,
except such as, judging from the bearded female saints
above mentioned, maintain that miss (outside called Mrs.)
Juggins can't yet have reached maturity, since she lacks a
beard. Hence the good dame often receives a pot of bear's
grease, accompanied by lines like these :

' Apply this ointment to thy dimpled face.
And, when upon thy lips a tawny wreath

Of fair moustaches blooms, with beard in place,
Be mine, O loveUest blossom of the heath !'

She lives on Wimbledon Common, which, I suppose, is the
• heath ' alluded to.

" Give hags my hate, and oins a kiss, and my cat a box
of sardines.

" H. P."

" Ushaw, Durham,
"De. 12 th, 1877,

" Wednesday, 4.30 p.m.

"Mv Dear Mama,

" I got your letter and the order on Tuesday. Thanks
for both. I am afraid even Mr. Greenwood cannot foresee
much good for my Turks now, can he ? Poor Osman. To
think that Czarewiches and Gourkos and Princes Charles
have got him. But it's a comfort to think that he always
beat them in the field, and that they had to bring their
Todleben to starve him out

" I hope England will soon be taught that honour and
expediency go together. It would be rather fun if Lord
Derby had to go to war after all ; then, perhaps, he would
prefer having fought while there were Turks to fight with
him, and would find it harder to make Russia give up what
she had taken than it would have been to prevent her
taking it.

" My sympathies are with Russia now, as opposed to
England. I hope she annihilates the Turks (for I'd rather
my Turks be done for now whilst covered with honour
than live on subject to Russia) and gets exactly what she

3o8 COVENTRY PATMORE

wants in the peace. I hope Germany encourages her, and
England is left to stand by herself, as Turkey was. How-
ever, it doesn't matter to me what happens.

" It is much more to the point to ask you to thank our
Lady with me for a gpreat favour I have got from her, and
now and then to join me in praying to her for one or two
things that I want

" Is Mrs. Jackson still able to walk about ?

" Give my love to Papa and Oins.

" Your loving son,

" Harry.

" P.S. — If Obby is with you, gfive her my love, too."

" Ushaw, Durham,

"Jan. 2nd, 1878,

"Wednesday.
"My Dear Mama,

" Do not I make lovely ' M's ' ? Nevertheless, as I
am in a hurry, I hope you will excuse bad penmanship.
We have such a delicious crib, but I will not attempt to
describe it It is all life size and there is such a delicious
cow lying down looking so contented and happy ; and our
Lady looks so angelically happy, and our Lord so lovingly
divine, as if rejoicing that he is only a tiny baby.

"What a wonder it is we can think of anything else when
we believe this ; and it seems to go against the g^ain to
think of it

" Your loving Henry."

" Ushaw, Durham,
"Jan., 1878,

"Tuesday, 11 a. m.
•*My Dear Mama,

" I will b^in by telling you that I am very happy.
I have been happier during the last two or three months
than ever before, I think, I suppose because I have been
trying to be gooder.

" Another thing that conduces a great deal to my happi-
ness is that my bump of poetry is developing rapidly ; I
do not mean the bump of writing poetry, for I know that
^ f to write poetry is not my vocation. I might write like
. ' Longfellow or some of those second-rate poets, who, Papa
says, aren't poets. But Td rather not, even if I could.

HENRY PATMORE 309

For now that my poetical bump is developing, poetry
seems to me the noblest and greatest thing, after religion,
on earth ; and it seems a horrid profanation to have so many
books of pretty rhymes with red backs and gilt edges every
day published, calling themselves poetry, criticized in news-
papers as poetry, and, I suppose, owe their reputation as
much to their red backs and gilt edges as to anything else.
My muse might soar as high as this, but she could never
inspire me with any real poetry ; so she shall be dumb.
But what I mean by the development of my poetic bump,
is that I can now see the poetry in Milton, Wordsworth,
Papa, and Dante (even Dante !) as I never could till quite
lately ; and I really think that being able to enjoy poetr>'
is a new source of happiness added to my life. I was read-
ing the * Angel in the House ' this morning (for the first
time), and I enjoyed it very much.

" But, as somebody said of Wordsworth, * I ' seems the
only pronoun in my vocabulary.

" How is every one ? Do Oiney's and your heads ache
much now ?

" Arc the English going to war ? What does the * Pall
Mall ' say about things now ? I should think it must be
rather disgusted and angry with all the world, is it not ?

" I must now say goodbye and with love to Ma; for I have
not written to her for some time.

" Your loving son,

" Henry."

" Ushaw, Durham,

^ Feb. 15th, /78.

"Thursday, 11.45 ^•"^'
"Mv Dear Mama,

" On Tuesday I was very rich. I got letters from
you, Papa, and Gertrude. Papa is beginning to write
regularly and often to me now, I hope he will go on. I am
just at the end of Dr. Newman's * Apologia,' it is a delicious
book. I did not think that such a noble and good creature
could exist on this earth. It is quite sickening, after read-
ing this • Apologia,' to turn to those around mc and to
myself, and see how very frivolous and aimless and selfish
our lives are; how we go on living from day to dsLy/or the
day, as if we were animals put here to make the best of our
time, and then ' go off the hooks ' to make way for others.

3IO COVENTRY PATMORE

Of course grown up people often live for God, but I think
nearly all my 'compeers' here (myself included) are
animals. I tlunk I must be a MONK; I have been think-
ii^ so for a month, and the thought seems to me to come
from God. But I must not be in a hurry, I will wait and
pray, as Dr. Newman did, and light will come, as it came
to him. My confessor thinks it is my vocation very likely.
I wonder what order would do for me.

'^ It is dreadfully hard to be good. This life doesn't
seem to be meant for goodness. But I begin to see that I
can't be happy unless good, and though &ere is a great
deal to discourage me in the ascent, there is not a little to
encoura^ The worst of it is that I sometimes feel so
very animalish ; but, whatever happens, the Imitation of
Chnst is like the voice of God himself telling me what to
da Pray for me, and pray that I may be a monk, and, if
possible, a priest For I cannot ever be really happy, I
think, exc^t as a monk. But all this may be a passing
dream.

^ I hope Ei^land is dragged into war, don't you ; and I
don't feel as if I could care much if she was beaten.

^ I must now devote some time to the perusing of the
exploits of the ancient Romans, and then I shall finish the
' Apol<^^'

" Your loving son,

« Harry."

" Ushaw, Durham,

"Feb. 14th, 1878,

"Thursday, 8 p.m.
"My Dear Papa,

"Thank you very much for your long letter, which I
got the day before yesterday.

" Though Gertrude tells me you have given up politics in
despair, will you answer one or two political questions ?
Do you think all England's glory and greatness is gone ?
And is her want of honourableness now in any way due to
the Reform Bills ? But I suppose that can't be, since it is
not Parliament so much as the nation that has degenerated.
3. What do you think of Lord Beaconsfield and of Lord
Derby ?

HENRY PATMORE 311

*' Since I began this letter I have read the first book of
' Paradise Lost.' I can now see ten times more beauty in
it than I ever could before.

" I don't know what to think of poetry, whether to think
it is all empty sham or that it is a relic of man's greatness
left after the Fall. For it makes you feel so elevated for
the moment, and then you see it was all an illusion, and
fall back into unpoetical reality or unreality, whichever it is

1 must stop, for the clock is striking ten.

" Your loving son,

" Henry John."

"Ushaw, Durham,
"May i8th, 1878,
"Saturday, 12.

"Mv Dear Mama,

" The Bishop called me up this morning, and told
me that you had written to ask him if some one from the
college could go up with me to London for my examina-
tion. He asked me what I thought of it, and when I told
him, he said I had better write and tell you all I thought
and felt about it, and he would write and tell you in short
about our interview.

"I know, dear Weenie, that this plan is the result of
careful and kind thought, and I am afraid it will hurt you
to hear I don't like it But I will tell you why, and I
think we (for in this Dicky's voice ought to have weight ;
for Dicky is 18 and, if he has not experience of the world
in London, he knows all about the world here, and all
about the examination) shall be able to change the plan
so as to satisfy us both. I will tell you exactly what I feel.
1 am ashamed to be taken up to London and looked after
when there by someone from here. All the college would
laugh at mc, as well as the person who went with mc, and
I am sure I should be miserable for weeks before and
during the examination week (for, believe me, the person
who went down with me would not like the task at all, and
imagine how wretched it would be to live alone for a week
with a person who would rather not be with me and would
regard me as a great nuisance and a big baby), and it
would be a sore point and a laugh against me to all here
when I came back. Of course the answer to all this is that

;tion is all sentiment or fancy and that the reason

one going from here with me is a solid fact, to

I 5«: itiment ought to yield, viz. that I could not look

myielf, and that the only practicable way of getting

ne *o look after me is to get someone from here But

h lat, after all, facts ought if possible to be made to

»— feeling. For facts are only material things and

are a part of our souls. Feelings remain, and^

ugn they may be crushed, the pain of the crushing

^.rtains as a fa£L Facts being things external to us, we

: always be sure how^ far they are true, or which way

,*f really bear, and I hope to be able to make you think

I me dmt the in this case, are not altogether true,

^ .* V Jiey are, they are (I think) arguments

?\i « . cannot look after myself, I must learn

metime, and tnts is a good chance. For, after all, there

>uld be very little danger in my living in a little room in

^ndon by myself and driving in an omnibus every*day to

^ examination house, and coming back at night and

' aictiping in my little room. You may say, * How shall I

find my way by myself to my lodgings to begin with, how

\ >ii I manage to get on in lodgings by myself, to find my

ibus each morning, to find my way back each night?'

\% are not these just the things I must learn to do for

lyself some day, and surely iS is not too young to

.jegin ? May it not be more prudent to expose me to the

danger of making little mistakes now than to leave me

without the experience I might now gain to fall an easy

prey to gfreat mistakes hereafter ?

" There cannot be any real danger in leaving me alone
in London in lodgings at i8 years old. Want of ph)rsical
strength will not really make me likely to be murdered or
robbed, will it ? And whatever carefullness can do to save
me from danger, physical or moral, that I promise con-
scientiously and self-denyingly to do.

" But if I cannot live by myself, could not Mrs. Gamett
or someone else have me, or could not Oiney or someone
come up to London ?

"Seeing me use the word * self-denyingly * a few lines
ago, perhaps you will say that my selfndenial does not
show in a very bright light when I am so unwilling to deny
myself in the subject I am writing about But, if you still
want me to I will 'with all my will but much against my

I

L

V,t

^ HENRY PATMORE 313

heart' ' But do remember it is no light thing, especially
for me so deficient in moral courage as I am, and above all
in a school or college like this, to bear what makes him the
object of a sort of silent laughter and contempt to all, and
will leave in him a wound ready to pain him at a word or
hint dropped.

''If you think that it would be better for the examination
itself that someone from here should be with me, I can
quite understand your thinking so ; but let me say, dear
Weenie, that this is a thing that I can see in a truer and a
stronger light than you, b^ause I can realize the situation
better ; and I am sure that it could not really help me at
all, and would, taking other things before mentioned into
consideration, be rather a hindrance.

*' As to the heat or the air affecting my health and so
making assistance necessary, though it is true that this
might happen ; still, in the first place, if it made me very
ill (which, I suppose is very unlikely), I could not do my
examination anyhow ; and if it made me headachy or any-
thing of the sort, I should get more help from my only
care if alone, than from the care of a person sorry to be
with me.

" Besides, there are two examinations, one some weeks
after the other, and the person who brought me from here
to the first could not, most likely, without great incon-
venience to himself do the same for the second.

" But even if these difficulties can be cleared away, do
try and get some (««;') other expedient for the love of our
Lady and of

" Your loving Son,

" Henry."

" P.S. I should not have been in time to send this off* to-
day, if I had written it carefully, so please pardon the
scribbling."

Mary Patmore yielded to Henry's wish, and, with
her usual unselfishness, arranged to take lodgings in
London and receive him there for the examination.

* QuoUtion from Patmore's Ode, " A Farewell"

3H

COVENTRY PATMORE

'* Thursday,
" 12.30 p.m-
"Dear Obs,

**OId Chapney didn't get a chance of forming any
opinion of Anthusa,* as he fortunately went off 5 minutes
after the MS* came on Monday morning. , . . Well, as I
was saying, Obs, I went to church this morning. There
were about 30 people there, mass was to be at ^ to 8, We
waited^ and by 8 o'clock we began to think the parish
priest was less punctual even than usualj about 8.15 the
parish priest took the trouble to send word that he wasn*t
going to get op this morning, Lorks! What things parish
priests are I

The Grecian love tale mentioned by Gertrude Patmore,

CHAPTER XXII

LATER PROSE WRITINGS

THE end of the year 1875 found Patmore
established at the Mansion, Hastings, the
very house which it had been the dream of
his childhood some day to occupy. The first few
years of his residence were spent in completing the
Odes, in writing "Amelia," and in revising and
selecting from his earlier poems. The publication
in 1878 of a complete edition of his poems may be
said to have ended his poetical career, though he
spent considerable time in further revision for later
issues, and wrote some few more verses, of which
but a small proportion were published. While other
homes of his have an equal claim to rank as the
scenes of his poetic labours, it was at Hastings that
he commenced and in a great measure completed his
later prose writings, which to many are of scarcely
less interest than his poetry.

There was one prose work of Patmore's, destined
never to see the light, to which he had devoted
special care and labour. The "Sponsa Dei," a
treatise of no great length, is admitted by all who
saw it in manuscript to have been brought to the
highest standard of literary perfection, while it ex-
pressed in greater fulness than any other work of his,
either in verse or prose, the idea which is the main
inspiration of all his writing. Its history is in a
special degree illustrative of Patmore's thought and
character.

By about 1878 the poetic impulse had ceased, and

^

COVENTRY PATMORE

] tmore had convinced himself that he had worked

out the entire vein of such of his thought as could be

I expressed in verse. When, not much later, he turned

r is attention to prose, there could be little doubt

hat subject would be the first to claim his attentioiL

have shown that from boyhood the idea of nuptial

ire had been the main inspiration of his poetr>%

tit the events of his life and the development of his
jught had confirmed him in this choice, and had
I him to impart to each successive phase of his
irk more and more ideality, w^hereby human love
ime to be increasingly symbolical of Love Divine.
The relation of the soul to Christ as his beiroihed
|p^ tife^' which had, in comparatively early years, pre-
rented itself to him as "a mine of undiscovered joy
and power'' (p, 146), had in the course of years taken
complete possession of his imagination. Later he
speaks of this same symbol as the ** burtiing Ii£ari of
iht universe'' (vol. ii.j p* 67).

It was characteristic of Patmore that his thought
should be related to one central idea, and that the
'yeloser his approach to it the greater should be the
' fervour of his inspiration, which naturally expressed
itself in increased pregnancy and perfection of lan-
guage. He was not wont to modify his conceptions
or to adapt them to any conventional standaid, but
developed them fully and fearlessly and expressed
them with emphasis. If he ever condescended to
think what reception his readers were likely to accord
to his work, he must have trusted that the obvious
sincerity of his conviction, the candour of his self-
expression, and the refining influence of a passionate
idealism would carry him through difficulties which
might be fatal to more guarded or hesitating utter-
ance. He could scarcely however have been alto-
gether unconscious that in pursuing this theme he
was, as it were, walking on a razor's edge.

Vy

LATER PROSE WRITINGS 317

The ideal light in which his chosen subject pre-
sented itself to his imagination served to transfigure
all its accidents ; and this involved a risk of carrying
his analogy beyond due bounds. Even in his earlier
work some such tendency had been apparent ; and
the same danger necessarily became more grave in
proportion to the elevation of his theme. It is
evident that to some of the poet's friends a few of
the later odes had appeared to carry to excess this
analogy between human and Divine love. Mr. de
Vere for example had, in a letter which is printed in
vol. ii., strongly urged the suppression of the group of
odes, "Eros and Psyche/' "Psyche's Discontent" and
" De Natura Deorum." Others of Patmore's admirers
had ridiculed Mr. de Vere's scruples ; but it is clear
that the question at issue did at the time of publication
and must in the future separate the readers of the i
odes into two camps. It cannot be denied that, to
some, the expression of Divine in terms of human /
love becomes distasteful so soon as it passes beyond
general and somewhat vague suggestion : the ex-
tent to which it is acceptable to others in its more
intimate development must vary according to in-
dividual idiosyncrasy. To Patmore however this
symbol was not only of vital moment but had, as
he believed, the full endorsement of the Church, —
a view which the natural tendency to assimilate
what was most consonant to his own intuitions would
necessarily confirm. He indeed believed himself to
be merely resuscitating orthodox mystic doctrine
which had been neglected, or, to use his own
felicitous application of a scriptural phrase, to be
*• digging again the wells which the Philistines had
filled." It is needless, even if it were possible, to
judge precisely how far he was justified in this con-
tention. Certainly many passages in the Bible
suggest the analogy, though in very general terms :

322

COVENTRY PATMORE

\J

crisis of 1 884, as an example of what may be achieved
by prompt action of a practical kind. In r886 he
was no less eager in opposition to Mr. Gladstones
Home Rule scheme, I well remember the intensit}'
of his indignation at the proposal, and how urgent he
was that all his friends should exert their personal
influence against the measure, but can find no allusion
to it in his correspondence, nor any published writing I
of his which bears on the question, unless it be an ^
article which appeared in the *' St James s " for Dec
29, 1885, when Mr. Gladstones intention was anti* I
cipated but not yet proclaimed. This, which was
entitled " How to Govern Lady-like Races/' is em-
inendy characteristic of Patmore's thought. I

In 1888 the British Navy was, compared to the
sea-power of other nations, perilously inadequate :
the expenditure on it had reached the lowest ebb,
and public opinion was beginning to awake to the
insecurity which such a condition involved, Pat-
more wrote the following letter to the "St James's
Gazette" {March 12, 1888) :

"THE REVANCHE, SEDAN OR WATERLOO?
" To tlie Editor of the St. James's Gazette.

" Sir, — At a time when our terrible shortcomings in
the means of national defence are at last awakening serious
popular concern, you will perhaps allow me to indicate a
danger which, though it seems obvious, has never yet, as far
as I am aware, been insisted upon. It is that the humilia-
tion of France by the German victories may be revenged
upon us. It is not an injustice that the whole French
nation is burning to punish, but loss of prestige which it is
raging to recover ; and this might be recovered just as well
by beating us, who are vulnerable, as by beating the
Germans, which the French are beginning to see there is
little chance of their being able to do. In their present
state of feeling, * k Londres ' and * Plus d'Angleterre * might
in a moment become war-cries which would be fully as

LATER PROSE WRITINGS 319

popular materialism, or that the obvious sincerity,
profound conviction, and elevated purity, which his
manner of expression implied, gained for him appre-
ciation even where there was no approach to assent, —
certain it is that I and others of his friends were
frequently cheated of our timorous anticipations, and
convinced that, in fearlessly obeying his own instinct,
Patmore had shown a wisdom above mere prudence.

Though " Sponsa Dei," as a complete work, thus '
came to an untimely end, I cannot believe that it has
wholly perished. Of Patmore's published prose that
which approaches it most nearly is the essay '* Dieu
^ Ma Dame /' which no doubt aw06 something to
the lost work : so too do " T he Precursor ", and " The
Bo w Set in the Cjoud " ; and it is also probable that
some of the fragments given in vol. ii., c. v., are
portions of the " Sponsa Dei " ; but such iden-
tification is and must remain conjectural.

If the flower of Patmore's prose work was thus
sacrificed to a scruple, enough remains to secure him
a distinguished place among the essay- writers of our
time. Towards the end of 1884 he was definitely
launched on the new career, which was continued
more or less intermittendy until 1895, ^^ which year
his third and last volume, ** Rod, Root and Flower,"
was issued. It is mainly to his association with Mr.
Greenwood, which originated in a close sympathy,
literary, political, and personal, that the later prose
writings are due. As I have related (p. 246), many
of the Odes and some other of Patmore's poems had,
in 1875, 1876, and 1877, appeared in the "Pall Mall
Gazette," then edited by Mr. Greenwood. Patmore
regarded this paper as '* the only one fit for a gentle-
man," and found in it an accurate presentment of his
own political principles. In 1884 he was stirred to
patriotic indignation by Mr. Gladstone's attempt to

dissociate reform of the franchise from re^distribution
of seats, and finding that the '* St James's Gazette^"
which Mr. Greenwood was then editings took a similar
view of the sittiation, wrote to him as follows :

" Hastmgs» July 20, 1SS4,

**Dear Mr* Greenwood,

** Who so fit as yourself to initiate the combioations

which you advise for the preservation of the National life

X and of all that is dearest to good men ?

p>^ ^ "A saturated solution will sometimes crystallize and

solidify suddenly if any solid particle is cast into it Can I

ydo anything towards forwarding the chance of energiaiing
the public will?

** I am by no means a rich man ; but I am willing to bind
myself to contribute a thousand pounds towards raising a
really practical opposition to the ministerial treason, and, if
necessary^ ' meeting force by force.' If I could further assist
P by acting as a sort of secretary or intermediary, or in any
other way with you, nothing would make me so happy as
to leave my retirement and to live in London for the next
^tf few months and act wholly under your direction*

" You would notp I believe, find me afraid of labour, or of

any inconvenience that might arise

** Yours very truly,

" Coventry Patmore."

Mr. Greenwood replied as follows :

" Whitefriars, July 22, 1884.

"Dear Mr. Patmore,

" One or two such patriots as you ought to save us
from the fate of Sodom ; and I verily believe that there are
others too. Yours is a magnificent offer. At present I've
not got very far with the notion you have taken up so
warmly, but I shall see one or two good men this evening,
and again on Thursday ; and if once the thing is started it
would go on well, I do not doubt for a moment Meanwhile,
the leaders of the party do not seem very keen for counter-
demonstration — Sir Stafford certainly is not; — ^very un-
fortunate is the want of concert and energy among them.

LATER PROSE WRITINGS 321

but that is all the more reason, perhaps, why men who are

not professional politicians should move.

" Believe me, truly yours,
"F. Greenwood."

A few days later Patmore writes again, offering a
further contribution for the purpose of placarding a
speech of Mr. Bright's about the injustice of severing
enfranchisement from re-distribution.

These transactions served to strengthen the alli-
ance between Patmore and the editor of the "St.
James's," who, not much later, endeavoured to secure
him as a regular contributor to the paper. But
before passing to the general consideration of Pat-
more's prose writings, the bulk of which originated
in this connection, it may be well to say something
of his attitude in practical politics.

His position in such matters, that of an uncompro-
mising pessimist, on which I have dwelt elsewhere,
and which is clearly expressed in many of the Odes,
might have been thought likely to exclude any en-
deavour to set thin^ right: where there was no
hope for the future, it might well be supposed that
there was no use in present effort It is probably
due to some such reasoning that Patmore nas been
accused of doing nothing towards ameliorating condi-
tions of which he so clearly saw the defects. His
action however was not thus bound by the logic of
his opinions, which moreover, as was characteristic
of him, were expressed with something more than
due emphasis. In point of fact, on such occasions
as stirred his patriotism, he was energetic in action,
and ready to assist with his pen and purse as well
as by verbal advocacy the course which seemed to
him to be urgent. I have already related (pp. 7 1-75),
how he had in 1852 been instrumental in starting a
volunteer movement, the story of which he recapitu-
lates, in a letter to Mr. Greenwood concerning the

I. V

3M COVENTRY PATMORE

cr&is oi 1 884, as an example of what may be achieved
by prompt action of a practical kind. In 1SS6 be
was no less eager in opposition to Mn Gladstones
Home Rule scheme* I well remember the intensitj*
of his indignation at the proposal, and how urgent he 1
was that all his friends should exert their personal
influence against the measure, but can find no allusion
to it in his correspondence, nor any published writing I
of his which bears on the question, unless it be an
article which appeared In the *' St James's " for Dec-
29, 1885, when Mn Gladstone's intention was ant^
cipated but not yet proclaimed. This, which was
entitled '* How to Govern Lady-like Races," is em-
inently characteristic of Patmore*s thought.

In 1888 the British Navy was, compared to the
sea-power of other nations, perilously inadequate:
the expenditure on it had reached the lowest ebb»
and public opinion was beginning to awake to the
insecurity which such a condition involved. Pat-
more wrote the following letter to the ** St. Janies s
Gazette" {March 12, r888) :

"THE REVANCHE, SEDAN OR WATERLOO?

" To the Editor of the St. James's Gazette.

Cy'^v " Sir, — At a time when our terrible shortcomings in

\j A I the means of national defence are at last awakening serious

^ \1 popular concern, you will perhaps allow me to indicate a

j'J' I danger which, though it seems obvious, has never yet, as feur

as I am aware, been insisted upon. It is that the humilia-

I tion of France by the German victories may be revenged

upon us. It is not an injustice that the whole French

J ' J nation is burning to punish, but loss of prestige which it is

/^ J V- raging to recover ; and this might be recover^ just as well

b ,4 \ by beating us, who are vulnerable, as by beating the

V i \ Germans, which the French are banning to see there is

1 T i\ little chance of their being able to do. In their present

, 4^ J \ state of feeling, * k Londres ' and * Plus d'Angleterre ' might

t\ ^ in a moment become war-cries which would be fully as

LATER PROSE WRITINGS 323

infuriating as ' i Berlin ' and ' Alsace-Lorraine ; ' and a hint
from a Government which declared itself to be at last pre-
pared for the achievement of a signal retaliation would
make all Frenchmen foi^et Sedan to remember Waterloo.
The French just now have no particular reason for hating
us ; but their condition of mind towards us shows that they
do not require any particular reason, unless it be reason
enough that it is centuries since we have bitten the dust as
they have now been compelled to do.

" France has of late years shown a wonderful power of
reticence. The whole nation has, by tacit consent, pushed
on its portentous military preparations with as much silence
as possible, so as to give Germany no unnecessary and
premature offence. But, side by side with these, she has
likewise been making, with as much silence as possible,
naval preparations scarcely less portentous — against whom ?

" We are out of that great league of mutual protection
which we might have joined, and might still join, if we
would ; and it would be too much to ask of Prince Bismarck,
in a crisis of national life or death, to refuse to look on
without interference at an enterprise against us which might
leave him free to grapple with Russia, and which he might
with good reason believe would end in permanently assuag-
ing the lust of France for her revanche against his own
country. We shall have no one in the world but ourselves
to look to if, in the twinkling of an eye and upon some very
slight excuse, the purpose of the French naval preparations
should become apparent, and the enormous military power
which we have unconcernedly seen growing should be
turned against us.

'* Although this peril has not, as far as I know, been put
plainly before the English people, their very reasonable
uneasiness at the present moment is, no doubt, owing to its
being obvious ; perhaps some may think too obvious and
too probable for it to be talked abr^ut without imprudence
and risk of putting things into the heads of our neighbours.
But we may be quite sure that all our weakness and France's
possible opportunities arc in their heads already, and that
it is into our own heads that such things require to be put
clearly. If we did not all know that it was the way of
Governments to be often ignorant of what is the strongest
feeling in the nation, it would seem incredible that our
present Ministry should remain insensible to the fact that.

&

324 COVENTRY FATMORE

as an electioneering dcdge, they could not do better at the
present moment than demand a credit of such magnitude
as would prove that something effectual In the wmy of
national defence was really meant But they still bclie\^
in the utterly obsolete dodge of* economy ' in these nciattersv

I am. Sir,

" your obedient servant,

** C, P,
"March 12, tSSS."

About this letter he writes later :

" Greenwood tells me that my letter in the St James's
Gazette, headed 'The Revanche, Sedan or Waterloo?'
made a great impression in the highest political places : he
heard it gravely discussed at Hatfield, and considers that it
was the very beginning of that serious consideration of what
the French might be really looking forward to which ended
in the voting of twenty millions extra for the new ships —
the very sum I named in my letter."

The letter however does not mention the amount
which it was needful to expend.

These appear to be the most important occasions on
which Patmore brought his influence to bear on an
actual crisis ; but a further portion of his contributions
i to the " St James's " is concerned with more abstract
\i political principles, in which articles he consistently
advocates a policy of coiirageand patriotism, and
deprecates the short-sighte^Tselfishness which, in his
opinion, the enfranchisement of the lower classes was
bound to inaugurate.

In all his writings which bear on politics, whether
in prose or verse, Patmore shows himself a somewhat
\! pessimistic Tory, and his work must therefore, from
the point of view of party, prove palatable or dis-
tasteful according to the views of the reader. Con-
sidering it from a purely literary stand-point, I hold

LATER PROSE WRITINGS

325

that he has expressed himself on such questions more
felicitously in prose than in poetry, and has shown
that, for him at least, verse was not the best medium
for presenting political ideas. The question how
and in what precise form politics may become legiti-
mate material for poetry is too intricate for discussion
here. Patmore assuredly had many endowments
which on a priori grounds might be held to qualify
him for success as a political poet, — the faculty of
seeing matters in their wider bearings and of. re-
ferring them to general principles, a perfect sincerity
of conviction, and an imaginative power which in-
spired impassioned utterance. Moreover the politi-
cal adversary is to him no mere opponent, but the
advocate of opinions which are subversive of Divine
law. To him, as to the Psalmist or the Prophet, his
antagonists are not so much personal or party foes as
the enemies of God ; nor is any restraint necessary to
human condemnation, which can be but a feeble echo
of the Divine. But granting all this, and putting
aside some few passages which, on grounds of fair
play, appear to me to be unworthy of him, I am still
of opinion that, in his poems, the nearer the approach
to actual politics whether religious or secular, the less
satisfactory, on literary grounds, is the outcome likely
to appear. It is possible indeed that this very exal-
tation may be unsuitable to a subject which is usually
discussed on a lower level of thought. Patmore has
said concerning writers of religious verse, " haply 'tis
they screw the pitch too high," and it is conceivable
that the conjecture should be applied to his own poli-
tical poetry.

In his prose writings on political subjects I detect
no similar failure in form. Doubtless the tone of a
pronounced authoritarian will give offence to many ;
but, as a condition of good writing, this attitude
appears to have been advantageous to him, and is

1

•C'

326 COVENTRY PATMORE

perhaps, more practically effective than an affectation
of impartiality, which in any case would have been
impossible to one of his temperament.

Mr, Greenwood, who had found himself in such
strong sympathy with Patmore on many questions,
saw the chance of enlisting for his paper a contributor
of exceptional faculty. He writes to him :

"Dec 29 [1884?]
"My Dear Patmore,

" Next year I want to bring out as many articles as
I can from * eminent hands.' Will you, then, take thought
again to provide a little series or so that I may brag about?
" My aim is to get at least a dozen men of some sort of
distinction — (various of course) — to keep the pot boiling
pretty constantly with a spark of sacred fire. But about
this, please say nothing at present

" Yours very truly,

"F. Greenwood.''

Patmore embarked on this new occupation with
zest and enthusiasm. The conditions of his work
were entirely different from those under which he
had written in earlier days. He was no longer driven
to write for money, was allowed free choice of subject,
and was in close sympathy with his editor, who soon
came to rank among his most intimate friends. The
influence of this change of circumstance is evident in
his work : there is no longer any note of perfunctor)*
labour, and the advantage gained by the literan-
training and accumulation of thought which the in-
tervening years had brought, is apparent in matter
and style. Moreover he had abundant reasons
for knowing that his work, though anonymous, was
duly valued by the reading public as well as by the
editor. This it certainly was. I remember that a
lady of high literary attainments showed me, when
Patmore s earlier contributions were appearing, cut-
tings she had kept of articles which had struck her as

LATER PROSE WRITINGS 327

being of exceptional merit. These, as I was able to
inform her, were all from Patmore's pen. Patmore
wrote to Mr. Greenwood to tell him how happy he
felt in the work he was doing for him, and received
the following reply :

"Whitefriars, Dec. 27 [1885 or 1886].

" My Dear Patmore,

" I think I know what the source of your pleasure is,
in writing for the * St. James's.' It is the consciousness, more
or less acknowledged, that your work /^//r. This it certainly
does ; and it is my pride in the paper that no good article —
no really good one — ever did or ever does appear in it,
without full effect — I mean, of course, where it was meant
to have effect, and where effect is of practical value. My
praise (whatever it may be worth), is the praise of him who
cats the pudding, and sees how it is relished. I do not
remember any article of yours of which I did not hear after-
wards in one way or another ; and that is the gratification
you give the editor, over and above the private and personal
enjoyment of good work, and the satisfaction of working
with good men. Then there is the blessed concordance of
taste, of aims, and a common love of freedom, even like that
of the wild ass when certain things and persons seek to put
the halter on. This explains it to my mind : it is a pleasant
explanation, any way.

" Yours ver>' truly,

"F. Greenwood."

The " wild ass " however is not the only creature
whom it may prove difficult to harness. Though
Mr. Greenwood's yoke was of the lightest and
thoughtfully adapted to the Pegasus who was of his
team, some restraint and guidance was occasionally
needed. The authoritarianism which was too essen-
tial to be modified by any considerations of prudence,
and the mysticism which soared above the compre-
hension of the ordinary reader, were qualities which
it must occasionally have been hard to bring into line
even with the most advanced standard of journalism.

328 COVENTRY PATMORE

Occasionally the editor headed an article of Patir
with a conciliatory note; as, for instance, in the
of one entitled "Why women are dissatisfiec
which the following is prefixed :

** What follows is a remarkable paper, which som^
readers will think very shocking and even outni
though in fact it proceeds from one of the kindliest
as one of the firmest, keenest, and most subtle mine
day,"

The following letters give evidence of *
with which the editor kept his contributor t
and of the generosity which accepted the
without resentment ^

"Whiiefri*-
" Mv Dear Patmore, ^

" Your letter shows once more a very gen *-
The truth is, that it d^es take a little time to
^ ^ tactics of newspaper writing on controversial
• **it comes." Here is your article on * InequaH ^*

^r perfectly true, with nothing in excess : and j

. know what offence it would give in its straight ^^ ^
. I /assumption that every body knows that you . —
knows anythinfj of the matter. So they do.
itself IS hateful to thousands and tens of thoi
" I do sincerely thank you for your forbear

-\1 itse

" Whitefriars, Ja

"Mv Dear Patmore,

". . . . And now to my pain and gnV
to you that I fear you may over-metaphysic
if you write such papers as these four, th(
two later ones. Believe me, there arn't tw
V . X appreciate your subtleties, or dive deep
A^ thought without floundering. Some of th
r r and to them your articles will be as * nuts

J — you know that what a man feels he ca

y , \ thinks he has a right to be offended with.

LATER PROSE WRITINGS 329

of an Editor who has to take such people into serious
account But that is my unavoidable fate. ....

" Truly yours

" F. Greenwood."

If as a writer for the press Patmore had the defects
of his qualities, the latter were fully recognized and
appreciated by the Editor, who writes to him :

" Of course the poet is wanted for such work as you have
been doing for us lately ; this is where he comes in as
' Seer ' ; a name for him however which in a general way I
don't like at all."

Patmore's association with the " St. James's ** was
happily maintained to the end of Mr. Greenwood's
editorship. When this terminated, Patmore was
the first to whom he communicated his project of
starting a new paper. He writes to him :

" I have all but absolutely made up my mind to start a
new Review .... If so, you know what will ensue so far
as you are concerned. You will be asked to give your very
best help ; and I feel sure beforehand that it will not be
denied. . . . You are the first person to be told of this out
of the house here, as you may suppose."

There seems to have been some humorous dis-
cussion between them as to the title of the new peri-
odical. Patmore writes to Mr. John Dennis (April
24, 1891) :

" I had doubts about the title of the * Anti-Jacobin,* and
suggested two alternative names, * Under the Greenwood
Tree * and the * Twopenny Damn,* the last expressing admir-
ably, as I thought, the general purport of the enterprise.
But Greenwood was deaf to my advice. I have written no-
thing since the first three numbers but a little article called
" Simplicity."

About the same time he wrote to me :

" I have been tr>'ing to write for Greenwood ; but I feci
that what I do is out of keeping with his paper and with the
world's sympathies generally. So I shall drop that."

330 COVENTRY PATMORE

From this date Patmore wrote little for the press
— nothing in fact of importance except his apprecia-
tions of Francis Thompson and Mrs. MeyneU, both
of which appeared in the ''Fortnighdy Review."
But during mese years 1885-91 he had contributed
upwards o? a hundred and twenty articles to the *' St
James's Gazette."' These cover a vary wide range
of subject ; Religion, Philosophy, Politics, Art (es-
pecially Architecture), Literature, the Management of
Landed Property, Lsuidscape, Jewels, Market Prices.
Patmore gatheied together what he considered the
best and most important of these into four volumes.
Eight articles entided '' How I Managed and Improved
my Estate '' (see c. xv.), were re-published as a litde
volume in 1886, and the following year he reprinted
some further articles in a book called " The Sussex
Marshes.'' In 1889 he issued '' Principle in Art,'' a
collection of essays philosophical and critical, almost
all of which had appeared in the "St. James's
Gazette ; " and this was followed in 1 893 by a second
series entided " Religio Poetae." This volume, as the
name implies, is mainly devoted to religion, though
it includes some few essays on more general subjects.
It contains one, that on ** Madame de Hautefort,"
which was written at a much earlier period. (See
note p. no.) The contents of these two volumes
were, after Patmore's death, rearranged to correspond
more strictly as to subject with the titles of the
several volumes, and were republished with some
slight corrections and omissions.^ In 1895 Patmore
published a volume of aphorisms and essayettes,
almost exclusively on religious subjects, under the
title of " Rod, Root and Flower."

The only other prose work of his belonging to
this later period was a life of Bryan Waller Procter
(Barry Cornwall) which was published in 1877, fro"^
' See preface to edition of 1898.

LATER PROSE WRITINGS 331

which I have given an extract on p. 34. Concerning
this Patmore writes :

" Mrs. Procter insisted so strenuously upon my writing
the life and editing the remains of her husband that I could
not refuse, though it was a task little suited to me. I was
never really intimate with Procter, though I had known him
many years ; and though I admired his simple, sincere and
reticent character, I cared little for his poetry."

This work, though, as Patmore records, it gave
satisfaction to Mrs. Procter and her friends, is not
altogether free from the perfunctory quality which
might have been anticipated for it. The two smaller
and slighter works, "How I improved my Estate,"
and the "Sussex Marshes," are well written and
thoroughly readable, but deal with subjects which
scarcely give scope for the strongest elements of his
prose. The three volumes, " Principle in Art,"
"Religio Poetae," and "Rod, Root, and Flower,"
are those by which his power may best be tested ;
and of the three, though there is little to choose
between them, the second, in my own opinion, shows
Patmore at his best Of his style I have written
elsewhere that it is

" specially direct, masculinc,and free fromartifice. It is the ■
matter of which the reader is first made conscious, and it is
mainly by the vivid impression produced, by realizing with
what apparent ease thoughts hard to express are made
clear, that he becomes aware of the excellence of the manner.
In this respect Patmore's prose writing is, as it seems to me,
of a diflerent and more excellent kind than that of the
majority of the more notable writers of the present day,
with so many of whom style is the first aim and the phrase
apparently of more importance than the thought. But both
in his later poetry and in his prose work the form is in- \ ' ^^
dissolubly wedded to the thought, and the union of the two !
displays that ' inevitable ' quality which is one of the princi-
pal notes of first-rate art." J

To this I may add a letter from Mr. Greenwood

J

JUS

1

332 COVENTRY

to Patmore, who appears to have claimed admira-
tion for a prose work, written in a more self-conscious
manner, in which however Patmore thought he de
tected a resemblance to his own prose ;

"My Dear Patmore,

*\ . • I don't even see a likeness to the simple, deep-
flowing lucidity and serenity of C F/s essay-compositions 1
— which were n^i composed,

" Ever truly yours, ^d

None of Patmore's later work either in verse or
prose was calculated to appeal to a wide public
Nevertheless these three volumes were received with
warm admiration by competent judges. He was
always grateful for intellij it recognition ; inclined
also to wonder at any popular appreciation of hh^
work.

To a reviewer of the '* Ri ligio Poetae " he writes j

*'Lymington, Joly 23, 1S93.

"My Dear -,

" This is by far the most careful and capable revien
I have ever had. A thousand thanks for it. Two thirds of
an edition of 750 were disposed of before the volume had
been out three weeks. Is not that strange, considering how
insolently * unpopular ' are all its contents ?
" I suppose people like being damned. . . .
" Yours ever truly,

"Coventry Patmore.**

Patmore was, I think, fully satisfied with the success
of these works, for which he never anticipated a very
extensive sale. In a preface to '* Rod, Root, and
Flower " he writes :

"The readers from whom alone I expect a full and
hearty, though silent, welcome, are those literary persons
who, I am sincerely glad to see, find my writing, as Fuseli
said of Blake, ' D— d good to steal from.' "

It is certain that the influence of these books

COVKNTKV I'ATMoKK.
Iri.m a j.liolr.jjraih l.y (;. Hr.vUhaw, 1.SS6.

Vol.. I.

7'o/Aef, 332.

■I;

LATER PROSE WRITINGS 333

was far wider than might have been anticipated
from their limited circiuation ; and it is a common
experience with those who know them well to find
the thought conveyed in them doing duty under a
thin disguise as the material for original *' copy.**

CHAPTER XXIII

LATER LIFE

FROM the time of his removal to Hastings in
1875 ^^^1 h*s death in 1896, Patmore's life
was comparatively uneventful. I have al-
ready dealt with the literary outcome of this period
(the final instalment of the Odes and the later prose
writings), and have reserved for the concluding
chapters of this volume such minor matters as came
under my personal observation and are of interest as
they illustrate his character, though scarcely worthy
to rank as events. A brief record of these final
years seems therefore all that is requisite to complete
this portion of my task.

During his second wife's lifetime the Patmores had
found the distance between their home, the Mansion,
and the Roman Catholic church at St. Leonard's a
great inconvenience; theministrationsof a somewhat
eccentric priest were uncongenial to them, and they
believed that, if a mission could be established in their
immediate neighbourhood, it would prove as great a
boon to others as to themselves. The idea was a
subject of frequent discussion, and their willingness
to co-operate in a scheme which had this object in
view became known. A priest, a member of the
Pious Society of Missions, who had become ac-
quainted with some members of Patmore's family,
made overtures to him with a view to securing for
the Society any help which he might be willing to give.
Nothing however was actually done during Mary

LATER LIFE 335

Patmore's lifetime : had she lived longer, it is
probable that they would together have built or pro-
moted a church in Old Hastings to a humble standard
and for purely practical purposes. Soon after her
death (on April 12, 1880), Patmore determined that
this scheme should take form as a monument worthy
of her memory. The Pious Society was already
first in the field, and Patmore was the more inclined
to work with it as its ministrations were mainly de-
voted to the poor, and its constitution was of a fairly
liberal type. An arrangement between Patmore and
the Society was made, the nature of which, as he
understood it, is set forth in the following letter
to *• The Tablet" On the envelope containing a copy
of this letter is an instruction that it is ** To be re-
printed in any biographical notice that may be written
ofnur

"The New Church at Hastings.

"Sir,

"As the new Church at Hastings is now nearly
finished and is soon to be opened, it seems a fitting time to
correct a misunderstanding that appears to exist in some
quarters about the cost of the building — a misunderstanding
which may be prejudicial to the interest of the Pious So-
ciety of Missions, on the one hand, as it is a misconception
of what I have done on the other.

" My part in the work is the fabric of the church proper,
from the floor upwards. The land, priest's house, and the
extensive and costly basement-storey, below the street level,
including the great crypt — used now as a temporary church
— the schools, etc., together with all fittings and finishings
not coming under the head of the fabric, have been, or are
to be, provided and built, at a cost of about /^8,ooo, by the
Society.

" My share, the fabric of the church proper, costing about
/^5,300, has already been paid for by me, with the exception
of about /^300.

" But the Fathers of the Society have had to borrow
largely on the security of their London property, in order

336 COVENTRY PATMORE

to cany out their part of die undertaking ; and it is fior lUr
part of the work that help has been, and probably will fac^
solicited from the Catholic public

"^ I shall be glad. Sir, if you will allow me to take this
opportunity of correcting anodier error, which affects myself
more personally. I have heard it r eported that, &i fauadr
ing a ^Memonal Church' to my late wife, I have been
only carrying into effect her intentions. I bi^ dist&ictly to
deny that she ever, by word or writing ex p res s e d aiiy fai*
tention or wish of die sort During her ufejdmey indeed^

we used sometimes to talk about die necessity for a
church at Hastings^ and I called once with her oa jdw.
Bishop of Southwark, and offered him a sum of mooey and
a further endowment for ten years, sufficient to have iltarled
a Mission. But the Bishop was prevented by ciiciuitffauices
from availing himself of the omar, atid no plan was ever
afterwards broached between mysdf and my wife regarding
this matter; and the church of 'Saint Maiy Star of -tfie
Sea' is a purely free-will offering on my part^tb diehoooer
of God, and the memory of one of the humblest and tnosti
devoted of His children.

*« I am, Sir,

" Your obedient servant,

** COVEVTRY PaTUORE.
<<Ha8tii«8, BCay xS, 1883."

This letter clearly shows what was Patmore's view
of his arrangement with the Pious Society. It was
only on the very eve of the completion of the church
that he found that the necessary funds had been
raised by the Society, not as he here states on their
London property, but on the church itself.

As soon as the preliminary arrangements were
completed, the Pious Society acquired possession of
an old house nearly opposite the Mansion, and of
an adjoining site sufHcient for a large church, which
Patmore asked me to design. The ground fell sharply
from the High Street level towards the east, and
the gradient suggested a basement beneath the
choir which might be used as a temporary church
while the superstructure was in progress, and even-

ST. MARY, STAR OK THK SEA.
Drawn liy 1*. K.iflli-s DaviMni.

7ofa»ff', J 30.

LATER LIFE 337

tually for schools. Meanwhile the Mission was
started at the High Street house, where a room was
fitted up for a temporar>' chapel, in which the first
Mass was said on Nov. i, 1880 : the crypt was ready
for use in March, 1882, and the actual church was
opened on July 2, 1883.

Patmore's interest in the work from first to last
was intense. From the commencement of the nego-
tiations with the Society until the completion of the
building he devoted himself to the scheme in all
its bearings, to matters of business no less than of
building, and the enterprise formed an engrossing
occupation for him. His knowledge of architecture
was thorough, and, so far as I was concerned, dis-
played itself in the most satisfactory manner, in en-
couragement and appreciation, without interference.
He was intent on the work being worthy of its
object, and, as he said to me, it was to be " the only
Catholic Church in England without any bad taste
in it." I may record on my own part the unqualified
pleasure which this connection with Patmore afforded
me, not merely in his satisfaction with the result^
which he expressed with such friendly enthusiasm as
I would gladly have persuaded myself to have been
fully merited, but also in the more constant inter-
course which my frequent visits of supervision en-
tailed. His own pleasure in the scheme was unal-
loyed until the eve of its completion, when he
discovered that the understanding on which he had
relied had been violated. Of this unfortunate occur-
rence I have spoken fully in vol. ii., chapter iii.,
where I have endeavoured to pourtray his attitude
towards the priesthood. It is sufficient that I should
state here that the misunderstanding which arose
through no fault of Patmore s, unless it be a fault to
trust too implicitly to verbal assurances, served to
destroy his pleasure in the completed work. The

I. z

I alution in feeling was complete; and the diiircli

wnich should have been, as a memorial to his wife, a

* constant source of consolation and delight, came to

-*:rand for him as an irritating monument of brokea

" ith.

While the church was in progress, Patmore had

intended to erect a chancel screen, somewhat on ihe

* of those so often found in mediaeval churches^

M^^.* .noujtted too, as they were, by the Rood with St

^ iry and Sl John on either side. He was anxious

at both the crucifix ano me attendant figures should

oe of the highest standan of sculpture, but saw no

chance of obtaining such a result without some

t scheme of co-operation with others who had the

^me object in view. le following letter shows

>w he had intended to ig this about. Mr, Gossc»

'ho had heard of t Jea, had advocated Mr.

Dmeycroft's claims, i atmore. always faithful to

t early friendships, had determined to give Woolner

5 jt chance, if the scheme could be carried out

^ «* Hastings, July 26, 1SS2,

-My Dear Gosse,

"Your suggestion is so far from being 'Quixotic'
that the great objection to it is that it has been anticipated
by an attempt on my part, supported by Cardinal Newman
and others, to get Woolner to do a statue, the original to
be taken by some wealthy church like Arundel, and casts
to be supplied to other churches — including ours — at
moderate prices. Woolner, I believe, has still this idea —
which pleased him g^reatly when I proposed it — ^under his
consideration ; but, should he not take it in hand, I do not
see why your suggestion should not be proposed. Our
church is quite unable to give from £ifiOO to js3,ooo for a
statue ; but the notion of having a really first-rate statue,
casts from which should supersede the wretched Munich
things we have now to put up with,^seems such a practicable
and paying one (for the sculptor) that I cannot but think
that it will get done some day ; and, if Thomeycroft is what

I

LATER LIFE 339

you say he is as a sculptor, he ought to have the doing of
it, if Woolner declines.
^ I will try to get to the Academy before it closes.

" Yours very truly,
"C Patmore."

This project was never realized. The screen was
but half completed when the action of the priests
of the Mission became known to him. Henry Pat-
more had died in February 1883, and his father de-
termined to adapt the screen to the chapel at Ushaw,
where Henry had been educated, and to erect it
there as a memorial to him : nor did he take any
further part in the completion of the church.

On Sept. 13, 1 88 1, Patmore was married to Miss
Harriet Robson at the pro-Cathedral, Kensington,
Monsignor Rouse officiating. In January, 1883, a
son was bom to them, and was christened Francis
Joseph Mary Epiphanius. In the summer of 1891
the Patmores left Hastings, and by the autumn of
the same year were established at the Lodge,
Lymington, Hampshire.

The following letters require little comment. The
"cogent plea" on which Patmore excused himself
was, no doubt, that he had ceased writing poetry.
In any case he would have been unlikely to have
written verses for any '* occasion," a task for which
he never showed either faculty or inclination.

To Mrs. Coventry Patmore.

" Members' Mansions, Victoria St.,
"17 April, 1898.
"Dear Madam,

" In response to your published request to be supplied
with letters of Mr. Coventry Patmore for insertion in your
Life of him, which cannot but be a work of great interest.

340 COVENTRY PATMORE

I beg to hand you one which supplies an important and.
charming exposition of a poet's idea of womanhoexl.

" The occasion which called it forth was this ; Italy
celebrated, in May^ 1S90, the sixth centenarj^ of Dante's
Beatrice, and I was asked to collect for it the contingent of
homage which might be elicited in England. My apph*^-
tion in this behoof was readily acceded to by some of our
most eminent writers : the Queen sent a copy of her works
together with her autograph : our chief poets favoured me
by writing sonnets tn honour of Dante's love ; Swinburne,
Lewis Morris, Edmund Gosse, Sir Theodore Martin, Dean
Plumptre, and many others for England ; Andrew Lang
for Scotland ; Aubrey de Vere for Ireland, and the Bard,
Rev, T* Tudno Jones, for Wales,

" Of course I solicited one from Mr. Coventry Patmorep
who, of all others, was so well fitted for the tasic Hej
excused himself, however, on some cogent plea which I am
not now able to recall A little corr^pondence ensued. In
which he expressed himself so sympathizingly at one with <
the aims of the celebration as I had set them forth at length '
in * Notes and Queries' (7, ix., 81), the 'Academy/ ctc^
that 1 asked him to mould these sentiments into the form
of a letter such as he could authorize me to forward to the
Beatrice Exhibition as his quota of participation In it9»
object

" To this he willingly consented, and I have now procured
from the Gallery of the Uffizi in Florence (where all these
tributes are carefully stored), the following copy of the
letter I had thus asked him to write :

" ' Hastings, April 4, 1890.
"'Dear Miss Busk,

" ' I think that the celebration of the sixth centenary
of Dante's Beatrice, as the Italians are likely to manage it,
will be a graceful and serviceable honour done to the highest
and fairest ideal of womanhood that poetry has ever re-
presented. It will be particularly serviceable at a time
when that ideal is so widely denied or forgotten. True
manhood and true womanhood,

". . . the poles
On which the heavenly spheres revolve," *

From the " Angel in the House," cant iL, prelude i.

LATER LIFE 341

are mutually protecting and enhancing; and everything
that makes women more mannish, makes man more woman-
ish, and takes more or less of the light, warmth and joy out
of life. May Beatrice and Heaven save us from a general
reduction to that ** neuter gender " which seems to be the
ideal of " strong-minded " women and weak-minded men.

" * Believe me yours faithfully,
"•Coventry Patmore.
"•ToMissR. H. Busk.'

*' I remain. Dear Madam,

" Yours very truly, R. H. BuSK."

Though I have not thought it needful to catalogue
Patmore's friendships, but have been content that
they should appear incidentally as events or corre-
spondence dictated, there is one which needs to be
specially recorded. I remember that in 1875 he
invited my special attention to a volume of poems
called " Preludes, by A. C. Thompson," illustrated
by her sister, Miss Elizabeth Thompson, now Lady
Butler. These poems seemed to him to show un-
usual promise. It was not however till 1892 that
the friendship between the poet and poetess was
established. Miss Alice Thompson meanwhile had
married Mr. Wilfrid Meynell, who was well known
in literary circles, and sometime editor of the
'•Weekly Register" and "Merry England." The
friendship which was then commenced developed
into close intimacy. Patmore's admiration of Mrs.
Meyneirs poems was extended to the prose work
which she produced later ; indeed he came to think
even more highly of her essays than of her poems,
and advocated with enthusiasm, both privately and
in print, her claim to rank among the foremost writers
of the day. When, after Tennyson's death, the suc-
cession to the laureateship was a subject of general
discussion, Patmore suggested a new departure,
proposing that the laureate should for the first time

342 COVENTRY PATMORE

be a woman, and maintaining that of living poetesses
none had a claim equal to Mrs. Meynell's. She on
the other hand wrote a remarkably able appreciation
of the Odes, which she included in her first volume
of essays, entitled ''The Rhythm of Life" (1893X
and in 1895 published a volume of well-chosen selec-
tions from his poems, called " Pathos and Delight,"
in which a reproduction of Mr. Salient's portrait of
Patmore, for which he sat in 1894, figures as frontis-
piece. The friendship was no mere literary alliance :
the Meynells were frequent visitors at the Lodge,
Lymington, and for some years Patmore made their
house his headquarters in London, where his friends
were hospitably received by his host and hostess.
It was through them too that Patmore became
acquainted widi the poet, Francis Thompson, whose
work shows much similarity to his in diought and
not infrequently in form.

When in 1892 the post of Laureate became
vacant by Lord Tennyson's death, not a few of
Patmore's friends wished that the succession should
fall on him. Many thought that his claims were
paramount ; others that, as it was unlikely that he
could live to occupy the post for more than a very
few years, he might well be preferred to others of
equal claims who were greatly his juniors ; some
Roman Catholics were doubtless influenced in their
advocacy of his appointment by the desire to secure
the post for a member of their Church. Patmore
had done little to conciliate either political party :
his corrosive diatribes against Mr. Gladstone and
his followers had been scarcely more destructive of
any prospect of political support than his condemna-
tion of the faithless Tories. He told me that his
claims had been put before Mr. Gladstone, who had
confidently assured the applicant that ** Patmore had

LATER LIFE 345

died many years ago." (His best work however
had but recently appeared.) Patmore took no steps
in the matter, except, as I have shown, to advocate
Mrs. Meynell's claims, nor did he concern himself
about his prospects of succession to the post He
could at no period of his life have brought himself
to write for "occasions," and had long ceased to
write verse at all. He would, as I think, have
been gratified by the appointment, which however
he could have accepted only on his own terms. I
find but one letter on the subject. This also gives
his own account of the miscarriage which prevented
him from attending Tennyson's Kineral (seep. 191) :

"Lymington, Oct. 15th, 1893.
"My Dear Gosse,

" Thank you for your very friendly mention of me in
your article on the Laureatcship. I have always considered
it to be so out of the question that it should be oflfcred to me
that I have never even considered what I should do if it were.
I am glad that you advocate the claims of Austin Dobson.
His appointment would satisfy every body. Certainly it
would me.

" I missed meeting you at Tennyson's funeral by the ac-
cident of the invitation reaching me too late. I was staying
in London, and the ticket was sent to Hastings and thence
to Lymington, and thence to Town, where it found me just
an hour too late.

" Yours ever truly

"Coventry Patmore."

The reader will already have gathered from my
narrative that Patmore*s health had never been robust.
He had from comparatively early years suffered from
lung-weakness, which had often caused grave anxiety,
and to some extent had interfered with his life's work.
He had however frequently shown great recuperative
power, and, until shortly before his removal to Lym-
ington, seemed likely to live for many years. Look-
ing over his letters to me I find that before leaving

344 COVENTRY PATMORE

Hastings he was conscious of some failure of vitality.
He writes :

"Hastings^ Feb. 1891.
"My Dear Champneys,

" .... I have been very poorly ever since the great
frost ceased. While it lasted, I was in the highest health.
Since then, the most lively feeling I can get up, is one which
enables me to say with Clough, * I can wait to die' But as
I am half-way through my sixty-eighth year I suppose this
is as much as I can reasonably expect ....

" Yours ever

"C. Patmore."

Later he wrote to me describing a succession of ill-
nesses from which he completely rallied : but it
was evident to those about him that he was aging
rapidly. When I was staying with him in 1895, I
was alarmed at the change which was apparent, and
at the frequent attacks of vertigo and faintness to
which he was increasingly subject. I persuaded him
to consult a London physician, and arranged that my
brother Dr. Champneys should give him friendly
advice as to the specialist whom it was best for him
to see. He wrote to me :

"Grosvenor Hotel, Nov. 29, '95.

"My Dear Champneys,

" I saw your brother to-day. He was very kind and
careful, and gave me a letter to Dr. Norman Moore, who says
it is a weak and unequal action of the heart. I asked him
if I should die of heart-disease. He said * Probably not,
but that it is not unlikely ' . . . .

" Yours ever truly

" Coventry Patmore."

In June 1896 he wrote to his old friend F. G.
Stephens :

" I am alive but half-an-hour in the day. How long will
it be before that half-hour is withdrawn ? "

LATER LIFE 345

I spent a week with him in the late summer of 1896.
He was then in better health than for some time past,
and at no other period of the Lymington life did he
seem to me to show more geniality, ease, or content-
ment. His family remember that at this time he was
much given to talking of his earlier life. He saw me
off with a pressing invitation to return as soon as I
was back from Scotland, but this proved to be im-
possible and I never saw him again. All else that
need be told is conveyed in the following letters to
Mrs. Herbert Fisher, the daughter of his old friend
Mrs. Jackson. The one is from the doctor who
attended him in his last illness ; the other from his
eldest surviving daughter.

" Grosvenor House,

'* Lymington, Dec. x, '96.

"Dear Mrs. Fisher,

" I am very glad to give you any particulars about
Mr. Patmorc's last few days.

'* It was his habit for a long time past to take a walk
between 8 and 9 in the evening, and I had often warned
him of the danger of catching cold, which to him would be
serious.

" His last walk was on Monday evening, 23rd Nov. He
got up the next morning apparently in his usual health, but
soon went back to bed, being suddenly seized with coldness
and a violent attack of hepatic colic with sickness. I went
to him immediately, and found him pale in countenance,
with deadly cold extremities.

" The pain had gone by the time I saw him, and I am glad
that he suflfered no more actual pain, and only the distress
of restlessness. He was quite himself in mind that day. On
the next day, the sickness having quite ceased, a breathless-
ncss commenced, when I found congestion of the left lung
setting in. He also began to wander, and at those times he
went through the action of smoking imaginary cigarettes
and throwing away the ends. He had often before thought
he could not get over his illnesses, and on that day, the
25th, he said to me, 'What about going to Heaven this
time ? ' I said we should try to keep him here, as long as

346 COVENTRY PATMORE

we could, when he remarked. * I am afraid you are maldi^
the beat of it' I told him bis illness was very serious. He
was quite calm and undisturbed by my saying so. He
talked very little, but told Mrs. Patmore he did not wiA
many about the bed when he was dying. The next day I
found him much worse, but able to recognize me, and oo
my second visit on that day, the 26th, I found than all at
prayers, and he was sinking fast He passed away quite
quietly about an hour aftenvards. To-day at the funeral
I found myself standing by one whom I recognised as one
of your sons, and I was very glad to give him a welcome
here for the hour he had to spend before his train went. • . .
^Believe me, yours sincerdy,

"W.R.HILL

^ Mr. Patmore's little boy did not come home till alter
his father's death. It was thought best that he should not
have any distressing recollections."

"The Lodg^ Lymington,

"Jan. 10^ 1897.
"Dear Mrs. Fisher, . . .

" I will tell you all I can about papa's illness and
death. His health had been fairly good all the ycaar^
although his strength had faOed much, so that he looked
older Sian he was instead of younger, as formerly. Ever
since he learnt, about a year before his death, that his heart
was weak, he had been depressed and very nervous about
his health. About a week before he died, our sister-in-law,
Milnes's wife Kitty, came to stay with us. She is very
clever, good and charming, and her society really gave papa
pleasure : he enjoyed talking with her on literary and
religious subjects ; so that he was particularly cheerful that
week, consequently felt more hopeful about his health.
Only on Monday, the 23rd Nov., he went for his two usual
walks, in the morning to read the papers at the * Angel
Hotel,' and between 8 and 9 in the evening, for a walk
towards Vicar's Hill by the river. After the last walk, he
sat with mama, Kitty and me in his study, cheerfully talk-
ing until about ten o'clock, when we all went to bed.
Among other things, he said that night that he considered
* Amelia ' the best of his works. Next morning he got up
rather earlier than usual, and went down to his study, and

LATER LIFE 347

began a cigarette, apparently quite well. Soon he went
back to his bedroom (where Mama was still in bed with a
bad cold), and said he had such a dreadful pain that he
must go to bed, and then he Telt very cold ; soon he was
very sick, and the strain of that made his heart bad. By
next day he had his lungs affected and pneumonia. As
soon as the pain came on, on Tuesday morning, papa felt
he should die ; and he sent for F'. O'Connell and received
Holy Communion and the last Sacraments that afternoon.
Father O'Connell was most kind. He slept here that night
in case papa was worse, and said Mass in our Chapel for
papa on Wednesday morning. After that he came re-
peatedly and prayed with and for papa, both before and
after his death ; and he said Mass in our chapel several
times, instead of only once in the week, as usual. He was
also most kind in helping mama in many ways, in all her
business arangements.

** On Wednesday morning papa seemed rather better, but
by the afternoon he was worse. That dav a nursing sister
came ; but by the evening papa was wandering rather, and
he did not like the sight of a stranger, so mama and a
maid stayed up with him all night, as had been the case on
Tuesday night. Next morning he was much worse. About
2.30 Father O'Connell came and read the prayers for the
dying, and gave him the last blessing and Absolution. All
the household were assisting at the prayers. Once Father
O'Connell paused a moment, being overcome, and papa
went on himself, saying, * Depart thou Christian soul.' Dr.
Hill came while we were praying and knelt with us. At
the end of the prayers we left Dr. Hill, mama, the sister
and an old servant in the room. Presently mama was
putting papa's silver cross, containing a relic of the true
cross, by him, but he tried to put the string of it round his
neck. Whilst Dr. Hill helped do this, papa said, *This is
for Piffle when I am dead. Dear little boy.' After Dr. ^--^
Hill had gone, I think, papa asked mama to kiss him. He
put his arms round her neck, and said * I love you, dear, but <:^. ^
the Lord is my Life and my Light.' After that, almost to -
the end, he kept trying to repeat a verse of a psalm, though
he could not concentrate his mind enough to get the words
quite right. About ten minutes to four the old maid came
down to tell Kitty and me that papa was really dying, but
mama thought we had better not go up again (Kitty was

■^-

348 COVENTRY PATMORE

very poorly, and I think she thought it might upset us both),
but, instead, go into the Chapel, where we had the Blessed
Sacrament So the servants joined us, and we were all
praying aloud for him when papa died at 4.1a For the last
quarter of an hour the labour of his breath ceased, and he
was quite quiet and free from pain. He tried to put his
hands together at last He looked very peaceful after
death. . . .

" I remain, dear Mrs. Fisher,
•* Yours affectionately,

"Bertha Patmore."

On December ist, 1896, Coventry Patmore's body,
robed in the habit of a tertiary of the order of St.
Francis, was laid in the Roman Catholic portion of
the Lymington cemetery. A few friends met at the
little church, whence die coffin was borne to the
grave. As it passed the picturesque Parish Church,
its bell was tolling and the aged clergyman was seat
standing uncovered at the door, — a graceful recognir
tion of Patmore's character and distinction, and of
the influence of his religious writings, which made
for peace by soaring above controversy.

The grave is now surmounted by a monument
designed to indicate by symboP and legend the

* The following anticipatory notice from the " Athenaeum " for
May 5th, 1897, may serve to explain the general intention of the
design : — " Its size is such as to be subordinate to a churchj-ard
cross which is to be placed near the the centre of the Roman
Catholic portion of the enclosure, and the position of the grave
was especially selected on this account. It consists of an obelisk
placed on a square pedestal raised on three steps symbolical of
the Trinity; there will be at each angle of the junction of the
obelisk with the pedestal a sculptured lion, the meaning of which
in connection with the obelisk will be readily understood by
readers of * Religio Poetae.' On three sides of the upper portion
of the pedestal will be engraved the name of the Poet and
the dates of his birth and death ; at a lower level the front will
be adorned with a panel symbolically carved. Above will be
represented the Cross and Host rising from a stem from which
spring lilies intertwined with the initial letter of the Virgin's name.

n^ c WT,

THE MONUMENT AT LVMtKGTOK.

vcn* I.

TSpyQmfAMM

I

t!

LATER LIFE 349

tenour of Patmore's life and thought On one side
of the pedestal are chiselled extracts from his verse,
on the other from his prose.

The metrical extracts, from the '* Odes/' are as
follows :

"... Constantly his soul
Points to its pole
Ev'n as the needle points, and knows not why."

"... Seers who see.

And with convincing music clear and loud,
Startle the adder-deafness of the crowd
By tones, O Love, from thee."

The prose passages, from the published essays,
are these :

"A moment's fruition of true felicity is enough, and
eternity not too much."

" The bliss of heaven is the s)mthesis of absolute content
and infinite desire."

" All the love and joy that a man has ever received in
perception is laid up in him, as the sunshine of a hundred
years is laid up in the bole of the oak."

and below will be the laurel wreath denoting that the poet's
powers were devoted to the honour of Christ and his Mother.
This design will be enclosed by a band in the form of a vesua
fisds^ on which will be the legend, ' My covenant shall be in your
flesh'; and, in the spandrils, the letters A.M.D.G."

CHAPTER XXIV

PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS, 1 864 — 1 896

Herofis Ghyll

I HAVE endeavoured, in the preceding portions
of my narrative, to recover from the records and
letters which have been available, some idea of
Patmore's personal characteristics as they presented
themselves to those who knew him at eariier periods.
I propose here, for the same purpose, to put together
recollections of my own intercourse with him during
all the many years of our friendship, confining mys^
to those which bear on the general impression which
his character produced on me and omitting such
matters as are more appropriately recorded else-
where with a view to illustrating his views on
special subjects of thought In this endeavour I
find myself placed at some disadvantage from the
fact that I never, during the whole period of our
intercourse, made a note of any conversation ; nor
did I, to my great present regret, preserve his earlier
letters to me. I had at no time before his death
any reason to anticipate that it would fall to my lot
to write about him, and, in any case, should have
had no inclination to compromise pleasant personal
intercourse by conscious intrusion of an ulterior
purpose. If, however, my recollections are on this
account less full than they might otherwise have
been, compensation may be found in the hope
that the sort of "natural selection,*' which by the
lapse of time is unconsciously developed, may have

J

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^i

HERON'S GHYLL 351

served to give due prominence to the more impor-
tant memories.

My interest in Patmore had been aroused in my
Cambridge days. A friend who had happened to
be associated with some of the leaders of the Prae-
Raphaelite movement had lent me some of his
poems, I think the " Tamerton Church Tower "
volume. I had also read the " Victories of Love,"
as it appeared in Macmillan's Magazine, with the
special interest which attached to it from the circum-
stances under which I understood it to have been
written, and had heard, from common friends, much
about him personally.

It must, I think, have been early in 1864 that,
walking from Hampstead to Highgate in company
with a friend who knew him, I caught sight at
the corner of Caen Wood^ of a sombre, stately,
solitary figure dressed in deep mourning. My
friend introduced him as Mr. Coventry Patmore,
and, though but a few words passed, what little he
said left an impression of sadness, gravity, and
extreme reticence, entirely consonant to his appear-
ance. He seemed as one who had passed through
poignant sorrow with unimpaired manliness and with
increase of dignity. His personal appearance, so
far as I can recall it, was then a good deal like the
picture painted by Mr. John Brett at an earlier time
(that which is given opposite p. 84), and the more
salient characteristics with which I was afterwards so
familiar were rather indicated than developed.

I did not see him again till some six years later.
I was then paying a visit to some friends who lived
a few miles from Tunbridge Wells and who knew

* I find that the walk he was then taking was the same which
he had been accustomed to take in his first wife's company. He
writes in his diary, " My unspeakably happy walks in Millfield
lane and Hampstead Lane, every day for years."

352 COVENTRY PATMORE

Patmore intimately. He had meanwhile joined the
Roman Catholic Church, married a second time,
settled at Heron's Ghyll in Sussex, partly rebuilt
his house, and was then well embarked upon the
improvement of his grounds. Our hosts arranged
a visit to him, and we drove over one lovely summer
day — a party of some three or four. We found
Patmore deeply immersed in his landscape-garden-
ing, full of schemes for planting, damming, puddling
and draining, and justly proud of his house and its
surroundings. It happened that he had seen and
been interested in some early work of mine, and,
always genuinely devoted to architecture, took an
obvious pleasure in talking on this and cognate
^ matters, seeming especially pleased with the warm
commendation which I could candidly pass on the
j^"^ work which Mr. Bentley had done for him. I
,V remember being struck with the refined and almost

V ascetic simplicity of the home life, the early hours

and simple meals ; with the signs of his interest in
animal life — his love for and knowledge of dogs,
fishes, and birds/ There were many songsters about
the house, such as bullfinches and Virginian nightin-

^ Patmore indeed always seemed to me to have a special insight
into the workings of animal intelligence. As an example, I give
the following story. He had a St. Bernard puppy of a highly
nervous temperament. One day his son had taken the dog with
him for a walk and was obliged to return by train. WTien the
train ran into the station the dog showed signs of extreme terror :
during the short journey it was trembling all over ; and ever
after showed signs of fear if a train were seen or heard. One
day when Patmore was walking out with the dog for a companion,
it suddenly showed signs of agitation similar to that which the train
had always caused ; but there was no railway in sight or ^-ithin
hearing. Patmore was at first at a loss to account for the animal's
terror. Then he noticed that on the other side of the road was a
row of low cottages, at the end of which was a chimney discharg-
ing a volume of smoke. He saw at once that to the dog's percep-
tion the cottages would look like a train of carriages, and the

HERON'S GHYLL 353

gales ; and, in an ayia^, all sorts of birds, beautiful
and ugly, of vanous and not usually compatible
kinds, which seemed to have been trained to live
together as a sort of " happy family." He seemed
to know the ways and characters of all these, and
had many interesting stories to tell of their manners
and of the steps by which some sort of mutual
accommodation had been reached. I left much im-
pressed with the home and with its master, and
under promise to pay him and Mrs. Patmore a visit
shortly. From this time my visits to Heron's Ghyll
became frequent, and not less interesting to me than
the first. I often went down for Saturday-to-Monday
holidays, and the Sundays were spent in walks and
drives in the lovely neighbourhood. I found him
always in those days an easy and genial companion,
showing no desire to force conversation above the
ordinary social pitch, but never failing to betray in
his most ordinary converse the signs of his strong
individuality. I gathered from his talk that he had
anticipated some degree of ostracism on account of his
conversion. At any rate he seemed to wish me to
understand, what indeed I already knew from others,
that he was no bigot. It was, I think, on the very first
occasion when I stayed and walked with him that we
passed a new Anglican church, and he told me that he
had just presented it with a bell, thereby, as he said,
makmg himself liable to a sentence of excommunica-
tion. On another visit he told me that when he
first came to Heron's Ghyll his neighbours had
wondered how he woyld face the fifth of November,
which they looked upon as a crux for the *' Papishers,"

smoking chimney like the funnel of the engine. He drew the dog
out of sight of the cottages and found that its terror ceased.

The story is told in a book called "Our Pets and Playfellows,"
written by Patmore's third daughter, Oertrude, now Mrs. Watts.
I give it here as in was related to me by Patmore himself.

I. A A

1^ 354 COVENTRY PATMORE ^

\/ aod how he had surprised and silenced them by having

^ the biggest bonfire and Guy in the whole country-side.

It was not however until I became much more

intimate with him that he opened out on any de-

H finitely religious subjects. The first time he intro-

■ duced such matters, it was to regret the selfish and
I debasing materialism of the age ; and he seemed

■ anxious to know, with a view to the development of

■ deeper sympathies, that I at least accepted a super-
I natural rule of conduct. But there was never any

■ obtrusion of his own individual views nor of the

■ dogmas of his Church, nor was there then nor at

■ any future time the least suspicion of proselytism.
H It was after a good many years of intercourse that I
I he began to speak more openly on the subject that "

■ was always nearest to his heart* and which I found,
I by increasingly intimate self-revelation on his part

■ and more careful study of his writings on my own,
I to be the mainspring of his life and work.

■ Patmore however though the chiefs was by no
means the only interesting figure in the Heron*s
Ghyll life, and I may in this connection, though the
subject is more specially dealt with elsewhere, record 1
the impression made on me by his wife, Mary, and
his eldest daughter, Emily. Mrs. Patmore from the
first struck me, no less than Patmore's other friends,
as being extremely shy ; and indeed, though always a
kind and considerate hostess, she was by no means
-easy to converse with. There was something about
her which I can only describe as *' old-maidish-
ness " ; and this manner clung to her to the end of
her life. It would however have proved a great lack
of discernment on the part of his friends if the very
fine qualities of mind and heart which she possessed
had been altogether hidden from them by her ex-
treme reticence. I remember that the first point
Avhich struck me was her complete absence of egoism.

HERON'S GHYLL 355

I knew that it was her fortune on which the home
mainly depended ; but never once, in the whole of
our intercourse, did I see even the slightest intima-
tion on her part of consciousness that this was so. ,. ^
Patmore, always somewhat patriarchal in his ways, ^v^ ' ^
ruled the home as his own, manajg^ed the property, '"'^
inaugurated changes, and was in all respects the
complete master. He had in fact, as I knew, done
excdlently by her estate, and she had, and had reason
to have, complete confidence in his judgment. Still
it seemed to me proof of an altogether exceptional
nature that no sign of her special relation to the
finances ever once transpired. It was obvious too
that her devotion to his children (she had none of
her own) was complete. Doubtless the '' old-maid -
ishness " to which I have alluded had made it some-
what difficult for her to attract them. But it was
evident that in spite of such disadvantages, in spite
too of their loyalty to a real mother not altogether
forgotten by the elder children, the step-mother had
won a really filial respect from all. There can, I think,
be no doubt that she herself suffered from the con-
sciousness of her shyness, and welcomed whatever
served to break the barriers which it created. At a
later date I saw with amusement and pleasure how
she tolerated— even delighted in — what seemed to
me the supreme audacity of a much younger man
who adopted towards her a playful, even '' chaffing "
manner, and who came to be one of her greatest
favourites. My intercourse with her had from the
first indicated to me a lofty, unselfish character, in-
finitely worthy of respect, however difficult of access.
It was not long before I had convincing evidence that
this was far less than the actual truth. During the
Heron's Ghyll days circumstances occurred which
caused me to recognize in her a large-mindedness, a
depth of sympathy, a fervour and exaltation of spiritual

356 COVENTRY PATMORE

religion, and made me aware that it had been my
privilege to have had revealed to me a really saintly
character, hidden from all but a very few by its own
modesty and diffidence. The curtain fell when the
occasion had passed, and was never again lifted ; but
the impression made was permanent and endowed
all future intercourse with a special interest.

The eldest daughter, Emily, was often from home
during my earlier visits, and had taken the veil
before the Heron's Ghyll days were over. I re-
member her as a handsome girl of seventeen or so,
with frank manners and a mien of maidenly pride
which might be called "farouche," not altogether
concealing great possibilities of fervour. I under-
stood that she was then eagerly sought by a devoted
lover, but felt no inclination to marriage. It was
not long before she decided on a religious life, which
she embraced with all the enthusiasm of an ardent
nature. I gathered that in the home life she was
full of fun. Patmore told me how she had played
ghost one summer night and had almost taken them
in — when he detected the fraud and found her more
frightened than her intended dupes, lest the real
article should appear to her and resent the usurpa-
tion of its prerogatives. Patmore was always humor-
ously appreciative of youthful ways, and had many a
story to tell of his children, each indicative of in-
dividual character. Though his will was law, they
never seemed to me to have any unwholesome fear
of him, nor was it easy for me to believe that he had
ever been unnecessarily severe. Those passages in
the *' Odes " which are expressive of remorse, and
which appear to some to give evidence of undue
harshness in the past, seem to me to tell rather in
the other direction. The sentiment which inspired
such utterances is far more indicative of a tender
nature which, having acted on the compulsion of

HERON'S GHYLL 357

duty, is none the less subject to pity and compunc-
tion : the narrow and unsympathetic disciplinarian
is more likely to be self-satisfied and aloof from
remorse. At any rate, so far as my observation went,
1 could see no indication of any lack of sympathy,
while his insight into and interest in the individual ^
characters of his children was exceptionally keen.

Though the home life was extremely simple,
almost, as I have said, ascetic, it was clear to me
that its character was dictated rather by an aim at
" plain living and high thinking" than by any motives
of economy. It was evident that Patmore thoroughly
and constandy enjoyed the relief from straitened
means. No money was spared on the estate, though
none was wasted. He freely indulged his taste for
pet animals, kept as good a head of game on his
property as it would hold, at a quite disproportionate
cost; and among the smaller luxuries which he
allowed himself was the lavish use of logs in the
wood fires which were kept going in all but the
hottest days. I can even now recall his tall figure
striding into the drawing-room from his books or
letters, taking up his characteristic position, the back
against the mantlepiece, the tails of the velvet shoot-
ing-coat under his arms, a kind of shake and shiver
like that of one of his favourite Newfoundlands just
out of the water; the turn towards the fire and
the liberal piling on of logs, which was in no degree
checked by a gentle reminder from his wife now
much they cost him, a remonstrance which he met
only by a tolerant smile. Then he would, as the
fire burnt up, bask to his content, and one felt that
the genial sense of easy circumstances was probably
more of the essence of hisenjoyment than the physical
warmth. 1 1 was obvious too that this change afforded
no less pleasure in the freedom it gave him to receive
his friends, — a pleasure fully shared by his generous

358 COVENTRY PATMORE

wife. His visitors were not many in those dajTs.
partly, I think, because, from a possibly overstrained
sense of the difference which his conversion and
second marriage would have established in his rda-
tions with his former friends, intercourse with many
of them was suspended. But I, and some others,
not least those who owing to ill-health or sorrow
had everything to receive and little to give, were
always able to feel abundantly welcome, with a free-
dom to come and to go not very often conceded to
visitors.

Nor did I find the intellectual atmosphere less free
or genial than the social. Having previously known
but few Roman Catholics and one only (a very
abnormal specimen), with any intimacy, I naturally
approached the new friendship with some timidity
and a sense of the need of caution. This however I
soon found to be superfluous : nothing more was re-
quired than the ordinary reticence imposed by social
rules on those who may be expected to differ. Once
in very early days I remember to have made a slip
through inadvertence. I had just received from its
author "Studies in the History of the Renaissance."
and, knowing Patmores great admiration for the work
of Botticelli, was induced to read the essay on him
aloud. Before I knew what I had got to, I found my-
self committed to a passage implying that the Virgin
Mary had had other children than Our Lord, with
whom she felt herself in more restful human sympathy
than with Him. Such an idea was necessarily repug-
nant to the belief of my auditors, and was met by
Patmore with something like a snort of indignation,
and by his wife with a gentle murmur of disapproval.
They made, however, no comment, and did not argue
the question. I believe too they understood, without
any explanation of mine, how the misadventure had
arisen. But, so long as no matter of essential faith

HERON'S GHYLL 359

was compromised, there was no embargo on freedom
of talk, nor even on humorous stories which turned
on religious matters. Patmore loved a good story,
detested the Puritanical attitude which called for a
long face whenever religion was touched on, and
held that to be afraid of a Joke about it was a sign
of insecurity of belief rather than of conviction.*
Those who believed the essentials in their heart of
hearts could afford to trifle with externals. I re-
member telling him a story, I think of a monk's
sermon, which was no doubt superficially irreverent,
but which he received with delight. Then I
told him how severely shocked another had been
by the same anecdote. He remarked, with his
characteristic confidence, that it was far better to
risk an apparent irreverence, which at worst was a
venial error, than to be a prig ; for to be that was to
be "in a continual state of deadly sin." These
trenchant judgments of his lost nothing in piquancy
by being expressed in terms of theology. On the
other hand I was once present when something was
said which seemed to him seriously to compromise
reverence for the Deity, and I can recall to this
moment the indignant turn of the head as he faced
the unfortunate speaker, the curl of the lip and snort
of contempt, more crushing than any force of words,
which he would not condescend to use.

So that I soon found the proper basis of inter-
course to be perfect freedom of speech, — an assump-
tion of essential sympathy, with the implication that
differences of professed creed were no more than a
formal severance. I have already said that I was

* Mr. Gosse records ("Contemporary Review," Feb. 1897) a
characteristic saying of his : "No one is thoroughly convinced of the
truth of his religion who is afraid to joke about it, just as no man
can tease a woman with such impunity as he who is perfectly con-
vinced of her love."

/

u

y

y

360 COVENTRY PATMORE

never able to detect the smallest suspicion of prose-
lytism ; but had he had conversion in view» which
for other reasons I do not believe him to have had,
he could have adopted no more far-sighted tactics.
But of his attitude towards such questions I have
spoken more fully elsewhere.

One of the most characteristic among the many
paradoxical points in his character which forced it-
self on my notice at an early date, was the strange
combination of an extreme optimism in matters of
every-day life with a hopeless pessimism in things
political. Everything about him was the besL He
was proud of his wife, whose lofty and saintly char-
acter he obviously appreciated (though he never
opened out to me about her till after her death),
proud of his children, of his landscape, natural and
artificial, of his animals, his game, and his workmen.
I remember in later days talking with Lionel Ten-
nyson and his wife, who had just been seeing him at
Hastings, and who gave a humorous account of his
optimistic appreciation of all his circumstances:
. ** His house was the only house in England he could
have brought himself to live in, Henry's poems the
best ever written at his age, Bertha's drawings the
finest ever put on paper, his St. Bernard the biggest
ever whelped." At the same time the political out-
look was never less than desperate. N o statesman on
either side was to be relied on for a moment : the
distinction between parties was only that between
the various shades of black, and scarcely worth mak-
ing ; England, a corpse simulating life only by the
exuberance of its corruption.

As for the optimistic appreciation of his circum-
stances, one was content to let that alone — even to
endorse it : indeed it was evident that Patmore
had the faculty of impressing his own powerful indi-
viduality on his surroundings, of making them as it

HERONS GHYLL 361

were a part of his external self; and as such they
were bound to be thoroughly congenial to him. And
about his pessimism it was lost labour to argue. In
vain did one endeavour to make him fix by date
''that mild and almost mythic time of England's
prime," prepared to show, if one could, that, where-
ever in time he placed it, it had, in the light of
ordinary reason certain rather serious defects: in
vain did one call attention to hopeful symptoms in
the present. For material improvement, such as the
social rise of the working-classes, he cared nothing,
seeing that it did not appear to him to involve that
spiritual and moral advance which was all he cared
for ; and examples of personal bravery and self-der
votion were to him mere sparse survivals of a man-
liness generally submerged in the ocean of self-in-
dulgence with which material prosperity had deluged
the age. It was clear that his imagination had I -
idealized the past, while he was almost morbidly \ *
cognizant, to the fullest detail, of defects in the pre- / .^
sent His position was obviously inexpugnable, and
the subject one to be let alone. I retained only
a sense of the tremendous contrast between the two
outlooks, the personal and the political, and an in-
terest in opinions which one hoped there was no need
to share.

There are few of Patmore's more serious experi-
ences which he has not to some extent embodied in
verse. The Heron s Ghyll period, as we know, laid
the foundation of the Odes, the subjects of which
were however for the most part inspired by events
of an earlier date. There are indeed two of them
which may be taken to embody ideas drawn mainly,
if not exclusively, from this section of his life :
" L* Allegro," is a picture of the Heron's Ghyll days,
rather generalized than idealized, and ** St. Valen-
tine's Day" is no doubt founded on the close ob-

362 COVENTRY PATMORE

servation of nature which country life developed,
and for which he never had elsewhere quite the
same advantages^ at any rate in his later days* One
passage in ** L' Allegro '* always recurs to me as
representative of this phase of Patmore's Ufa :

** And now come home,
Where none of our mild days
Can fail, though simple, to confess
The magic of mysteriousness/'

\

Not very long after I had begun to visit him at
Heron's Ghyll he seemed to reaUze that he had
spent so much upon the place that it had ceased to
be a home suitable to moderate means, and at once
began to take steps towards making the house more
suitable for lease or for sale. He considered its
accommodation to be too little for the property, and
determined to increase it. This he did by the
addition of a gateway tower communicating with the
house and giving an addition of some half-dozen
bed-rooms. When this was completed he sought a
purchaser or tenant and soon found an occupant of
the latter kind, who, but for a characteristically chi\^l-
rous scruple of Patmore's, would have bought the
place outright. This tenant, whose name I have
forgotten, had made a large fortune by Australian
farming; had lost it, and made a second. He had
now finally settled in England, and determined to
lead a country life not devoid of letters. He had been
down to see Heron's Ghyll, taken a fancy to it,
asked the owner to name a price ; and, at the point
of departure, had expressed his determination to
buy it. Patmore however refused to close with the
offer until the intending purchaser had slept over
it In a few days he heard that the Australian
preferred a lease with the option of purchase. Soon
after the tenant had entered on his new home, Pat-
more asked me to run down with him and look over

HERON'S GHYLL 363

the estate. On the way he told me that the ex-
Colonist, determined to make up for his defects in
education, had imported larg^e cases of books, mostly
novels, which were to supply the necessary ifood for
the mind. We lunched with him ; and after some
talk about the estate, he introduced the subject of
literature, evidently thinking it due to his landlord's
attainments that this should not be ignored. After
a pause in the conversation he inquired somewhat
sententiously :

" I don't know whether either of you gentlemen
have observed that nearly all the most sensational
and improper novels of the day are written by young
ladies ? "

One of us asked him to give examples.

'• Well there is and and Georgie

Eliot " (the law of libel warns me against filling in
the blanks).

We let the dashes pass, but demurred to the
strictures on the mature spinster indicated by the
last name. At this he said rather indignantly,

" Well I don't know what you gentlemen consider
to be sensational and improper, but I consider
* Aurora Floyd ' to be both in a high degree."

During the interregnum between the letting of
Heron's Ghyll and its final sale to the Duke of
Norfolk, Patmore was frequently in London, taking
for a time a furnished house on Campden HilL
Here he renewed many old friendships and made
not a few new ones, giving me too the opportunity,
both then and afterwards (when it was his habit to
run up to London and ask his friends to dine with
him at the Grosvenor Hotel), of observing his ways
in general society. Whether it had always been so.

364 COVENTRY PATMORE

as I am inclined to think, or whether it were the re-
sult of the many years he had spent as a recluse, it is
certain that his attitude on ordinary social occasions
was receptive rather than active. He did not seem
to have any care for or to be skilled in the give-
and-take of average converse. He would sit at the
head of his table, silent for the most part, looking
happy and unembarrassed — his face wearing a sort
of tolerant half-smile — and would give, from time to
time, a genial assent to any words which seemed to
him to hit the mark. Occasionally he would rouse
himself and interject a remark, which was, as often
as not, seemingly irrelevant, being intelligible in the
context to those only who knew him well, — which,
moreover, broke as frequently as it encouraged the
flow of talk. He was however a most indulgent
listener, and his mere presence seemed in some
way to stimulate conversation and keep it on a
high level, while he himself generally went away
impressed with the brilliance of the talk he had
heard. I received numbers of letters from him in
which he says, " So and so dined with me. I never
heard better talk in my life." The same remark was
often passed on gatherings at which I had been
present, some of which, for meetings of accomplished
people, had not, as I thought, come ofT so exception-
ally well. It seemed to me that, after long absence
from society, talk of very average excellence made
on him something more than the just impression.
However, this readiness of appreciation was dis-
tinctly encouraging to those who noted it, and for
his own sake and that of his guests was by no
means to be regretted.

It was, however, in very small companies that he
showed to most advantage. As an example I recall
with pleasure an evening we together spent with
Carlyle, when no one else was present but Carlyle's

HERON'S GHYLL 365

niece ; and I am the more glad to commemorate this
meeting because Carlyle has been named as one of
the old friends whom Patmore had alienated. It
was evident that the intercourse was completely con-
genial to both. Carlyle, who naturally did most of
the talking, was at his very best, and the chuckle
which concluded his most savage sayings gave
evidence of his present good-humour, while it
afforded a valuable gloss on other apparent bar-
barities in his spoken and written words. Patmore's
attitude, in the presence of a much older friend, was
exactly right. This was, I think, the only occasion
on which I met him in the company of one of
superior age and eminence. There was a dignified
deference about him. He said little, but what he
did say was apposite and well-calculated to encourage
the flow of bnlliant, characteristic talk. I felt sure
that Carlyle found his company exceptionally con-
genial, and this perception was confirmed to me by
Miss Aitken who told me, shortly afterwards, how
much her uncle liked Patmore and his quiet, reticent
ways.

But tite-d'tite was the form of intercourse he loved
best; it was this which his friends and he him-
self mostly sought and enjoyed. On one occasion,
when a visit of mine had coincided with that of an-
other friend, and Patmore had fallen, more than
either of us wished, into the attitude of listener, he
said to me " You must come alone another time. I
can't have good talks with both of you at once."
Also I remember meeting there an ecclesiastic of a
high order who had not much to say which interested
Patmore. He however made the necessary sacrifice
to social duties by carrying on commonplace talk
with an effort which I appreciated but which was im-
perceptible to his guest. When the latter showed a
desire for bed, Patmore made no demur beyond what

CHAPTER XXV

PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS, 1864 1896

Hastings

HERON'S GHYLL having been disposed
of^ Patmore sought another permanent
home, and was fortunate enough to secure
for (so he thought) as long as he chose to occupy it,
the Manor House of old Hastings, He had been
familiar with this watering-place for very many years.
It was there that as a child he had first * beheld the
ocean ' ; it was there that he had spent his first
honeymoon, and thither his wife Emily had been wont
to go for change of air when her failure of health
began. Patmore told me that he had alw ays looked
on the house as an ideal home^ and had indulged in
youthful day -dreams of some day living there- Cer-
tainly there were exceptional charms in situation,
house, and garden. The house stands at the inland
termination of the " old town," in the gorge through
which runs the old London Road. It is sufficiently
raised above the bed of the stream, now mostly
covered in. In front is the hill which terminates
seawards in the East Cliff: behind it, the ground rises
rapidly towards the summit which ends in the Casde
Hill. Parallel with the High Street runs the old-
fashioned garden, of some four acres, evidently laid
out in what was known as the Italian manner which
was in fashion more than two hundred years ago;
while the shrubs, grown into trees, gave further
evidence of its antiquity. Along the upper portion

HASTINGS 369

is a long grass terrace ending in a wilderness ; below
is a garden of mingled flowers and herbs. Though
close to the main thoroughfare, the grounds are per-
fectly secluded, while the intervals between the trees
give charming glimpses of the picturesque old town
with its red-tiled roofs. The grounds form a sort of
*' rus in urde,** being in the town but not of it ; and so
well sheltered is it that, though Hastings ranks as a
" bracing " place, the garden can rear quasi-tropical
flora, and seasons are strangely anticipated in its
vegetation.

The house-front is of the formal Georgian char-
acter, covered almost entirely by an ancient mag-
nolia. The interior adapts itself picturesquely to
the hill side. In front are three sitting-rooms on
the level of the entrance, the dining-room to the
right, to the left the study, where were kept the few
books which Patmore had in constant reading ; be-
hind it a morning room, used mostly by his wife
and daughters, in which were stored the bulk of
his own books, together with the not inconsider-
able number which had been kept out of the large
library inherited by Mary Patmore. A good stair-
case led to the fine drawing-room, the farther end of
which came level with the ground as it rose. A few
more steps brought you to the best bedrooms, and
an additional flight to the numerous attics which,
Patmore was glad to find, were nearly all good
enough for guest-rooms. One of the main sources
of his satisfaction in securing the house was that he
need never forgo visits from his friends ; and he
wrote to me that there was now no need to arrange
my visits, but that it was to be '' wire and come."

He had not long been settled in the new home,
and I had not yet been down there, when he wrote
to tell me of a terrific storm, which, but that it
occurred at neap tide, would, as he thought, have

I. BB

nost swept Hastings away. He expected a re-
currence, and I was to be ready to run down at any
moment if he telegraphed. The message came m
due course but found me, to my great disappoint-
ment, hopelessly engaged. However, a little later on,
I had the good fortune to be there already when the
greatest of all the storms occurred; and I witnessed
with him an appalling vision of the powers of nature
let loose. By no means the least interesting subject
of observation, and the only one which I have any
right to commemorate here, was the attitude of th^
poet himself. He seemed wrapt and absorbed by
the wild turmoil ; exultant at every manifestation o(
the huge power of material forces ; exultant even in
the devastation caused. When, the day after, we
walked along the sea front and witnessed the im-
measurable destruction, his delight in the scene
seemed to me almost cruel. Long afterguards I
heard that he had immediately sought out one of the
principal sufferers^ a poor keeper of a lodging-house,
and offered her £so to make good her losses.

I found the life in the new home established verj-
much on the lines of that in the old, except that
there was some relaxation of hours. Probably be-
cause there was a greater chance of casual guests,
the times of meals approached more nearly to the
normal. The day was laid out in the same manner.
Immediately after breakfast Pat more and his male
guest adjourned to the study for a chat, not un-
seasoned with tobacco. He had by that time taken
to smoking almost incessandy, always mainly, and
in later days exclusively, cigarettes, which his
daughters had the privilege of making for him. Of
these there was an endless store, and I hesitate to
guess the number to which the daily consiunption
mounted. It was obviously understood in the house-
hold that these colloquies were not to be interrupted

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HASTINGS 371

without sufficient reason. Till eleven or so the time
was accounted for by talk and a very hurried glance
at the daily paper, when it so chanced that a paper
was admitted : for it often happened that one asked
for it in vain : something had arisen in the political
world which had added even a further degree of
hopelessness to the political outlook, always de-
sperate, and " it was wiser to shut one's eyes to what
was in progress." Somehow or other, though the
ordinary avenues of information were thus closed,
Patmore seemed to know what was passing — what
statesmen were coming to the front, what further
enormities were to be feared ; nor did he always
bring himself to abstain from a word in season to
the press. On the next visit probably the old news-
paper had found its way back, or another had taken
its place. When the paper was there Patmore seemed
to get all he wanted out of it almost at a glance, and
to have mastered its contents, which he had not had
time to read, in the ordinary sense of the word. At
one time he used, after hasty perusal, to pass on the
newspaper, Conservative organ though it was, to his
pet raven, who would attack it viciously and tear it
into shreds, " showing," as Patmore would observe,
" a true appreciation of the • rot ' of the daily press."
After the conference came a walk of a couple of
hours, in earlier days generally towards Fairlight
and back by his favourite point on the East liill,
whence could be seen the old town nestling beneath
us in its ravine, half shrouded by the blue smoke
which, always blowing either landwards or towards
the sea, gave a softness and mystery to the pic-
turesque detail ; the two old churches standing like
sentinels on either side of the valley and at either end
of the town ; beyond, the sea-line running westwards
towards the Highlands and Bexhill, with Beachy
Head outlined in the dim distance.

J7»

COVENTRY FATMORE

//

t: V

b

v.

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^

lioa of tiM limrMveal^^

firtal the wdka were limitJBd to the I^^

here beeame jfndually shottenedL AJBter die ctte

o'clock londi Pittim»fe rata^ to hfe looiii 1^

firom whidi he returned soiae hours hter lor a dbit

or for a short rsmbfe in the garden before tlie od^

evening nesL The fadier \aasi evienii^ ms »

aiigunted with a masAait and taUc» dien am

^ so of fiutttijr whisi^ then the

^ wfaidi, if PatniMe happened to l>e in vein»i
be considerably deferred. Notinfireqiientfy»4
dfy if a comet was to be seen^ or an edqxK^ a
was preferred to any other pastime^ and was
protncted well into die n^t. In later veaisi
evening walks became a pretty constant wik^

Patin!i»e*a wiijat was by no means scientific^ but
often imttcated readiness of resonroe ^uite anaidtd
by conventions and rules. Birt: what intere sted lae
nmrt about it was his inenugnable ocmviciion tfwt
he was nesrty ahmys the wbner* Heused^iaical
was thers, to propose points for m excess of liie
modest domestic standard, and to embark on the
game with all the exhilaration of a reckless gambler,
at the same time telling everyone present that he
always won when he played with me ; nor could I
convince him that, as was the actual fact, the balance
inclined, on the whole, the other way. It was one of
the curious examples of the opti mistic view which he
took of all personal matters, so strongly contrasting
with his political sense.

Whether it was that at this period his mind ac-
tually reached its fullest power while his physical
vigour was still unimpaired, or, it may be, because
he then began to impart to me his deepest and
most ideal conceptions,-^certain it is tbat diese

HASTINGS 373

earlier Hastings days seem to me, looking back, to
have shown him at his very best. It was at any
rate the time in his life which was most prolific of
his best worlc It was then that the Odes were
completed ; and the prose works, collected and pub-
lished later in the volumes known as " Principle in
Art" and " Religio Poetae," were then mainly written.
So, too, was the " Sponsa Dei " which was never
allowed to see the light. There was too at this time
a vigour in his talk, a constant display of his striking
individuality, which self-expression, though it never
ceased, became in later days more uncertain and
intermittent Also I seem to have seen him more
frequently at this than at any other time, and to have
obtained a more complete knowledge of his special
characteristics.

One of these, which was most clearly marked, was
the exceeding strength of his modes of expression,
which constantly, with those who knew him little,
passed for overstatement Frequently however I
found that, when his utterances had appeared most
exaggerated, examination of the facts literally con-
firmed them, proving that it was only his highly-
coloured imaginative presentment which had given
this impression. Nevertheless, under various in-
fluences he undoubtedly did, not infrequently, in-
dulge in definite exaggeration — generally from a
mischievous humour which made him delight to
shock prejudices with which he had no sympathy.
I remember, for instance, how on one occasion the
doings of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty
to Animals was discussed. Patmore said that he so
detested the morbid effeminacy in which the Society
indulged, that, when he read of any of their more
flagrant acts of mercy, he always went to the stable-
yard and gave the dogs a thrashing all round. As a
lady who was staying there for the first time was one

374 COVENTRY PATMORE

of his audience, his daughters felt it right privately
to put in a disclaimer, which for those who knew him
better would have been quite superfluous : " Papa
does not really do it, you know." *

There were none who incurred his anger so much
^as sentimental faddists, humanitarians, anti-tobac-
coists and teetotallers. He utterly disbelieved in
making people virtuous by system, detested interfer-
ence with personal liberty, and loatJiedsen^mentality
^ i^ and softness. I remember one day discussing with
him " a short way with burglars." We wished that
more people would take to shooting them at sight,
and decided that horse-pistols and buck-shot were
the most effective instruments. Next time I was
with him I found he had bought a pair of huge
pistols, and that we were to try the effect of them.
We unearthed a great wooden screen, sketched on it
the best map of a burglar which we could concoct,
and tried how many shots a single discharge would
lodge within the outline. As we were both unused
to this special form of artillery, one cannot but deem
it providential that neither did the poet shoot his
future biographer nor the latter his subject. The
experiment promised excellent results (from the
point of view of the burgled), and I believe that

^ When the mischievous fit was on him, Patmore was prepared to
go great lengths, even to wilfully misrepresent his religious convic-
tions and the doctrine of his Church, with a view to getting a rise
out of his victim for the time being. A lady whom he loved to
tease tells me that he one day took her into the church he had
built at Hastings, and said to her, " Is it not a fine thing to know
that all the sins which I have committed, or which I may commit^
will certainly be forgiven me ? I have built this church to last,
as nearly as may be, forever ; and while it stands, possibly for a
thousand years, masses will be said for me, and all my sins will be
forgiven. Don't you believe this ? " She answered " No, I don't ;
and you know quite well that you don't either"; which was per-
fectly true. Patmore's only answer was, "What a d — d little
Protestant it is ! "

HASTINGS 375

Patmore longed for an opportunity for a practical
test I do not think that, had the occasion arisen,
he would have hesitated to shoot or failed to hit ; but
he would probably afterwards have secretly sup-
ported the family of the victim.

If the Hastings period was specially productive
of good work and talk, it was none the less a time
of frequent sorrow. While he resided there Patmore
lost his second wife, to whom he was bound by the
closest ties of spiritual communion and deep though
unostentatious affection ; his eldest daughter, who
was in specially close sympathy with him ; and his
son Henry, who showed promise of giving to another
generation work of the same quality and to some
extent of similar vein to his father s. All these losses
affected him profoundly. It seemed indeed to be
his doom to part first with those of his family with
whom he had the most deeply-rooted sympathy.
I naturally hesitated to visit him while his sorrow
was fresh, but was glad enough to go when I knew
that he wished it On such occasions I found him
superficially much as usual. There was no change
in the daily routine, no invitation to expressions of
sympathy, no ostentation of grief. I noticed that
his periods of silent rumination were more frequent
and longer than before : there was just a hint of in-
creased gravity of manner, and a note of spiritual
exaltation, as though the other world had been
brought nearer to him by the accession to it of his
loved ones. He never in my hearing, any more
than in his later writings, discussed hopes of im-
mortality nor of reunion in a future world ; not, one
felt intuitively, because he had any doubts, but
because such questions had long since been settled
in his own mind and laid aside as quite elementary
doctrines of the faith wherein he had attained to the

/

^

>/

J76 COVENTRY PATMORE

higher levels of apprehension. If the position wi
reversed and it was his visitor who had undergone
bereavement, his attitude was analogous; some soft
ening of manner, a few special marks of confident
and regard, an unusual liberality of self-revelatioo^
these were the signs of sympathy which alone it was
natural to him to vouchsafe, and duly understood,
were more salutary and soothing than any outspoken
condolence. ■

It was these days too that afforded the first
opportunity of observing his ways with verj' young
children. His third marriage had given him a son
who from the very first was his frequent companion,
and between whom and his father there was always
an excellent understanding. The child had, more
than any member of his household, the freedom of
the study, and his interruptions of private colloquies
were the only ones of which Patmore never betrayed
the slightest impatience. He treasured up for his
friends the childish sayings, which he specially de-
lighted in when they were at his own expense* I
remember, for instance, his telling me with the
utmost glee how the little son had realized for the
first time that his father had been married thrice,
and had exclaimed, " Why, Papa, you're half as bad
as Henry VIII.!" He watched with intense interest
the effect on the child of the earliest religious teach-
ing which, as he said, he seemed to " suck in like
mother's milk," and used to wonder to me how those
fared with their children who had to forgo the
benefits of a fully formulated method of instruction.
It would certainly be impossible to' see a more
beautiful relation between father and son than was
established between these two,^ and it was the more

» About 1887 Patmore writes as follows : " When my first fiunily
were little children, I was too much harassed by hard work and
ill health to enjoy them rightly. It is only since I was sixty, when

me
>ft^

HASTINGS 377

striking because of the unusual difference of age
(Patmore was nearly sixty when this son was bom),
and of the autocratic character which he was gener-
ally, and not always without reason, considered to
present To my own children, when they were old
enough to visit himwith me,he was always thoroughly [ '

genial. They never felt any shyness with him, and
spoke out with the utmost freedom. He had a pro- i ^
found belief in the intuitions of childhood, and often |
commented on the directness with which the mind
unhampered by self-consciousness would hit the
mark where incomplete maturity bungled and was
at fault

It was during the Hastings period too that he
seemed most disposed to move about His taste of
more general society in London had disposed him
to visit new scenes, and he went in my company to
Oxford and Cambridge, seeing at both universities
some of the best of the social Rfe. We also together
stayed with Robert Bridges, then just rismg to
poetic fame. Later on he was my companion for a
week at Houghton on the Test, where I then had
the right of fishing.^ He was intensely interested in
the sport, but still more in the fascinating, complex
movements of the gin-clear stream, which, he told
me, haunted him through the night. I hoped that
his impressions might be recorded in verse, but by
that time he had ceased to write poetry. There is
however a sentence in one of his essays which
sketches in a few words the appearance of the water
as it moved : " Repose .... which bears upon the
stately movement of its eternal stream the passions,
pains, and pleasures of life, like eddies which show

my last bom came into the world, that I have known the incfTable
happiness of being a father."

' Some amusing letters written during this visit are given in
vol. ii. pp. 134-138.

378 COVENTRY PATMORE

the motion that is too great to be perturbed b
them/' I recall one characteristic incident during
this excursion. He came to me one evening ai
dusk by the river where I was casting for a large
trout rising under the near bank, 1 devoted my
attention to the trout for half an hour or so, after
which it was too dark to throw a fly with any accu-
racy, and I had to give him up. When I rejoined
Patmore, he said, **I said seven ' Aves' for you to |
catch that fish/' I argued that prayers should be
reserved for more important interests dian sport
To this he partly agreed, but added that, in his
opinion and in that of his Church, there was no harm ^^
in praying for comparative trifles. If it was well forfl
you to obtain them, you would probably get them
by prayer, and if not, no harm was done. The
remark seems worth recording in illustration of the
anti'puritanical character of his religion*

1

Changes of physique and of manner are, to those
who have opportunities of observation at short in-
tervalsp difficult to detect as they develop, though^
they gain clearness in retrospect Looking back, I
seem to see a marked distinction in these respects
between the Patmore of my first acquaintance and
him of the Hastings days, and a further change
appears to have occurred during his life there.
The facial characteristics seemed to strengthen, the
peculiarities to become more salient and more pic-
turesque, the manner and carriage somewhat more
angular and less easy. Moreover he had become
subject to a sort of chronic bronchial affection which
made his laugh more harsh and generally caused it
to be followed by a dry cough. This gave a new
acquaintance the impression of a more sardonic
humour than was really characteristic of him, and
contrasted forcibly with the low, quite whole-hearted

HASTINGS 379

chuckle with which his older friends were familiar ;
and I am not greatly surprised that many who knew
him in this phase only, who heard his humorously
strong statements (the humorous intention was
not always obvious except to his intimates) and
the somewhat harsh cachination which followed,
failed to apprehend the essential geniality of his
character. The favourite attitudes continued the
same. While talking, he would now stand with his
back to the fire, his coat-tails under his arms, always
assuming his position with a kind of shake of adjust-
ment ; then lean far back into his low cane-backed
chair, his legs stretched in front of him, his long
hands sometimes grasping the elbows, at others em-
ployed in eager demonstration ; and when deeply
interested in the talk he would lean forwards towards
his companion, holding him with an eye as fascinat-
ing as the Ancient Mariner's ; then the pose against
the mantel would be resumed. When he was walk-
ing, all such signs of restlessness ceased, as though
the exercise were in itself a sufficient discharge of
"reflex action." He usually took his companion's
arm, and walked at a moderate pace, with a slight
stoop forward of the neck and head and without
swinging of the arm or action of any kind. But he
could neither move, stand nor sit, any more than he
could speak, without betraying the force of his indi-
viduality. One could only notice as time went on a
gradual failure of alertness in his movements, of
whole-heartedness in his laughter, and a rather more
frequent preference of silence to speech ; but a con-
stant increase in pregnancy and condensation in his
utterances compensated fully for their decrease in
volume, and the change was too gradual to disturb a
frequent visitor.

During the earlier years of Patmore s residence

at Hastings, there had been considerable friction
between him and the eccentric priest of St Leonard s
Qmich, Patmore was full of half-htimoratis com-
pUife about him and his methods. I remember,

for instance, his telling me how Father ^ told his

legation one Sunday that, as he had lately been

coofto

tiMl]

liighly dissatisfied with the amount of the collec-
tioil$» he meant to come round and collect himself.
^* I had/' said Patmore, ** put ready in my pocket a

•ovcreigri and a shilling. When Father brought

•Ac plate to me, I put both openly into the palm of
my hand, and then ostentatiously put the sovereign
jbMk into my pocket and the shilling into the plate.
I was of course preached at the next Sunday, almost

hy name ; but Father had had his lesson "

His dissatisfaction with this priest's ministratio:
llad been one of his motives for founding the new
dburch, St Mary, Star of the Sea. Unfortunately,
1)^9^ the church was furnished and opened, the
dlGfe^nce with the Pious Society of Missions had be-
gun* The pleasure he had anticipate was poisoned
•at the root, the object of the sacrifice he had made,
imperilled, and his attachment to the locali^ weak-
ened ; and, though circumstances arose which would
in any case have severed him from the home, the
congenial Hastings life may be held to have ter-
minated with this miscarriage.

I

a

T

CHAPTER XXVI.

PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS, 1 864 — 1 896

Lymingtan

HOUGH these difficulties had served to de-
tach Patmore from the Hastings home, it is
doubtful whether he would have voluntarily
left it in his lifetime. He had held it, as he believed,
on a verbal understanding that he would not be
called on to quit ; but a new owner to whom it passed
required it for himself, and Patmore had to look
elsewhere. He was fortunate enough to hear almost
immediately of the Lodge, Lymington, in many im-
portant respects similar to the house he was leaving,
and he succeeded in obtaining for the new abode the
same privilege which he had enjoyed at Hastings —
the license for a private chapel. With his usual
optimism he found the new home a great improve-
ment on the old ; wrote me an enthusiastic descrip-
tion of it, and, not without some degree of friendly
special pleading, endeavoured to show that it was
at least as easy of access for his London friends as
Hastings had been. I visited him there in the early
autumn after he had taken possession, and found
him thoroughly settled — full of appreciation of his
surroundings, near and far. The house stands on
the eastern side of the estuary, opposite Lymington,
which is reached either by a ferry or by a viaduct.
It commands the old-fashioned, almost amphibious
country town towards the west, seen over a shallow
channel which is filled and emptied by twice the

382 COVENTRY PATMORE

usual number of tides : the far bank is bordered by
wharves, sheds, and the paraphernalia of shipping,
behind which the picturesque little town rises towards
the quaint old church. The southern outlook com-
mands a fine view of the Isle of Wight, especially of
the downs above Freshwater, on which the cross
erected in memory of Lord Tennyson now stands
out, a conspicuous landmark in clear weather. There
is little traffic past the house, and the sense of
proximity to and isolation from the life of the neigh-
bouring town is not dissimilar to that produced by
the Hastings home. The house itself, far less at-
tractive outside^ is, within, scarcely less characteristic
and even more spacious and comfortable. It has
evidently been added to repeatedly, and has acquired
in the process the air of ingenious adaptation to
actual requirements, of irregularities and surprises,
which is so charming when its origin is genuine, and
which seems so affected when arrived at by needless
and calculated scheming- It has some eight sitting-
rooms, one of which opens on to a conservatory%
which was always kept well-furnlshed with flowers,
and a proportionate number of bedrooms. The
garden, of some four acres, is in great measure over-
grown with trees and shrubs; but the more open
portion, which is mostly kitchen garden, is ren-
dered picturesque by very old gnarled espaliers and
standard fruit-trees, while the soil is unusually pro-
lific. Patmore told me that the landlord, who had
owned considerable property in the neighbourhood,
had skimmed his fields and transported surface soil
enough to form six feet depth of garden earth over
the entire area. There were plenty of pleasant walks
inland, especially that along the east bank of the
marsh — formerly saltings, now a favourite haunt of
herons, through which ran the little river Boldre — ^to
Boldre Bridge and Boldre C)ilirch. Such walks

LYMINGTON 383

were within Patmore's powers during the first year
or so of his residence there ; but the best were in
the forest, some four miles distant by rail or road.
This he loved in all its aspects, especially as it
appeared in autumn. I remember his remarking to
me as we walked in it that he believed he was the
only poet who had commemorated the special autumn
grouping of the foliage, as he had done in the phrase,
'* the dossy autumn woods." He would tell me how
he had conceived the idea of cutting himself loose
from all duties domestic and social, transporting into
the heart of the forest a disused railway carriage of
two compartments — one for sleeping and the other
for the day — and living in it alone ; and he would
ingeniously combat all the difficulties which I could
suggest as inherent in such a scheme.

The society of the new home too seemed to suit
the family requirements. The neighbourhood con-
sisted mainly of the families of retired officers, mili-
tary or naval, well-bred people of moderate means
and unpretentious lives — a society in which his wife
and daughters could join without undue ceremony
or display, and which need be no burden upon him.
There was too a fair amount of such male com-
panionship as proved congenial to him personally.
He was soon on excellent terms of friendship with
Mr. £• H. Pember, the well-known parliamentary
barrister, with Mr. Knowles, the painter, and witn
Mr. Doman, the Lymington poet, whose verses had
been published by the advice of William Allingham.
and who was delighted with Patmore s genial ap-
preciation of them.

The local society was however scarcely such as
would prove generally appreciative of his literary
attainments ; and one or two amusing incidents oc-
curred to show that it was not as a poet that he was
generally understood or valued there. For example :

3S4 COVENTRY PATMORE ^^

a lady happened to be making her first call at the
Lodge while the Roman Catholic bishop of the diocese
was staying there for some ecclesiastical ceremony-
He entered the drawing-room during her visit in
purple cassock and biretta, and wearing the pectoral
crosSp — when the ladies of the family, according ta—
custom, knelt down and kissed his ring* Knowtn^|
nothing of the Roman episcopal dress and as little
of the ways of poets, the visitor, who took the
bishop to be Mn Patmore, was surprised and in*
terested, and after leaving the house inquired of her
friends " whether all poets wore that handsome garb,
and whether it was the universal custom for a poet s
children to kiss his hand whenever he appeared." fl
On another occasion, when a fairly large company"
was gathered at his house, a lady^ who found herself
there for the first time, was suddenly conscious of aj
pleasant coincidence suggested by the name ** Pat-
morep" and she said, '*Fatmore! — ^I am sure I have
heard the name before. Yes, and now I know how
I heard it< I remember that long ago a sister of
mine got engaged to a briefless barrister — a ^riefisss
barrister ! Of course, my father would not hear of
the marriage; but I remember that the briefless
barrister gave my sister a book, and it was called
* The Angel in the Home/ or something or other,
and I am sure that the name on the book was ' Pat-
more/ and I know that it was put away in a cupboard,
and I think I know the very cupboard it was put in,
and I believe it is there now, and — yes — I am quite
sure the name was *Patmore."* And she smiled,
quite delighted with the pleasant impression she
must have produced on her host and the company
by the fortunate recollection of this coincidence of
names.

Such stories Patmore would tell with the greatest
gusto. Indeed, none seemed to delight him so much

I

LYMINGTON 385

as those which turned on some mis-appreciation of
himself or of his Church. There was, I think,
no single one in which he revelled so much as the
following, which I told him more than twenty years
ago. A somewhat similar story, which I cannot but
think must be the same, altered by passage through
several hands, is told in the second series of Sir
Mountstuart Grant Duffs recollections ; but it may
well be given in its original form, for which I can
vouch, as it came to me direct from its source.

A menagerie passed through a little Yorkshire
village, and the local sages set themselves to name
the animals. They did pretty well with most, but
were fairly stumped by the camel. After much dis-
cussion a g^enius suggested that it must be a " Roman
Catholic;' and this identification was generally
accepted. The parson, in confuting the Papal creed,
of which there were no adherents in the neigh-
bourhood, had left on his hearers a notion of some-
thing abnormal and grotesque, which found for them
its embodiment in this animal.

The work he was engaged on in these days was
the revision of the Essays, all or almost all written
at Hastings, which formed the volume entitled
" Religio Poetae," and the actual writing of the
aphorisms and very brief essayettes which appeared
as '* Rod, Root and Flower." He had not, even in
these earlier Lymington days, abandoned the idea of
writing more poetry, and often said that he thought
he could compose a narrative poem in the metre of
the Odes — something like "Amelia" on a much
larger scale — if only he could find a suitable subject.
Some few plots were suggested, which he dismissed
as being ** too good," — an expression which he did
not further explain but of which the meaning was
sufficiently obvious. There is a wide difference be-

I. cc

386 COVENTRY PATMORE VV

tween versifying a story, originally moving and ex-
citing, and raising a subject into interest by poetic
handling,' The poem was never commenced, and the
only verses he afterwards wrote were a few quatrains
or couplets of a social or epigrammatic character.
He used also in these days to talk, half seriously,
half humorously, about a new political publication
which he proposed to found. The idea was to bring
home to those on the wrong side in political and
other questions a due sense of the enormity' of their
doctrines by expressing them with a sort of ironical
crudity, H e thought that if the trappings of verbiage
and all other specious disguises were removed, the
enemy might be revealed to the public, perhaps even
to himself, in all his deformit}\ He even went sci
far as to draw up a list of possible contributors to
such a publication. It was obvious enough, even to
him, that the staff must be small, and to his friends
that probably he alone could thoroughly enter into
the spirit of such an enterprise. It would have been
difficult to find a second who could command a
similar force of sardonic humour ; and, even if the
publication could be launched, the probability was
that the ironical intention would with most readers
have passed undetected, and that the writers would
have been classed as somewhat indiscreet advocates
of the views it was desired to confute. It was, I think,
some anticipation of this kind that led him to aban-
don the idea even as a subject of discussion. He
had found abundant reason to complain of the mis-
appreciation which the humorous aim of some few of
his writings had suffered, and had, as readers of his
essays will remember, announced in a bitterly sarcastic
note,his determination never again to indulge in ircmy
without first announcing his intention. The publica-

* See voL L, pp. 261-262.

^

LYMINGTON 387

tion which thus perished before its birth was to have
been entitled "Tom o* Bedlam." '

* It would, I think, be difficult to find a better example of the
tone which Patmore intended this projected periodical to adopt
than the following letter of his to " The St. James's Gazette," Dec.
19, 1887 :

The New Poetry.

"Sir, — Most of my friends maintain that the day of poetry is
over ; and that it is well that it should be so, seeing that poetry is,
like punning, a departure from the 'normal process of correct
mentition,' regarding, as it does, all things not as they are but as
they seem. It appears to me that it would be more accurate to
say that the day of all or nearly all poetry which has been hitherto
written is over (that of Walt \Vhitman may perhaps be excepted),
and that poetry must conform henceforward to the new state of
things created mainly during the last quarter of a century by
science. When Mr. Frederic Harrison has declared that the
greater part of Shakespeare is rubbish, and Mr. Charles Darwin
has confessed that he is nauseated by that writer, it would be a
mere waste of words to insist upon the sickening effect of the
writings of Milton, Spenser, Wordsworth, Coleridge, and the other
comparatively minor poets, upon persons accustomed to correct
mentition. But why should there not be a new poetry, founded
upon fact, as the past has been upon fallacy ? Why should the
lark that, according to Wordsworth,

' Soars, but does not roam.
True to the kindred points of heaven and home,'

depend for his poetic interest upon such false and absurd praises
as are accorded to him in this sentence and the ode of Shelley,
when we know that the earth-shaking shrilling of that bird has for
its only and very sufficient purpose to make the worms which are
its food appear at the surface? Why should the poets go on
attributing * piety * to the robin, when all readers and observers of
natural history know that * piety,' in its old and vulgar sense, is
exactly the virtue which the redbreast turns up his beak at most
contemptuously. I have myself repeatedly verified the fact, which
is recorded by Wood and other natural historians, that the young
robins kill their parents, as being no longer fit for anything but to
interfere with the food supply of the rising generation, as soon as
ever the said young ones are strong enough for the operation.
Poetry, from the days of Homer to our own, has been nothing
but one huge exemplification of what Mr. Ruskin has justly con-

/

(/

V

(^

X

388 COVENTRY PATMORE

I may also commemorate here, though the fancy
perhaps was more engrossing in the Hastings days,
his taste for possessing valuable jewels. He had a
natural love for fine stones, and a gift of appreciating
and valuing them, which might have made him a
successful diamond merchant It was, I think, a cer-

demned as the ' pathetic fallacy.' We have cleared ourselves, in
our daily practice, pretty well from religion, * reverence to superiors,'
^ superstitions about love and chastity, and many other kinds of

cant; but we still go on reading and praising tiie poetry which
supports all such fallacies and hypocrisies with the most fatal per-
^^ suasiveness. What is the use of excluding religion and other
nonsense from our schools, if we encourage our children in spend-
ing their spare pence and hours upon Cassell's and other twopenny-
hidfpenny editions of such 'rubbish' as 'Hamlet,' 'Comus,*
Keats's * Odes,' or the * Angel in the House ' — which Mr. Frederic
Harrison has very properly stigmatised as * goody-goody muddle?'
Will they put any effectual faith in our instructions when we our-
[ selves place in their hands the inebriating cup of what might — if

^ ^ there were any such things as devils — be properly called * the wine
of devils,' poetry — as poetry is now understood ?

" But I trust a better time is coming. In the very act of writing
this letter my eyes have caught the following paragraph among

V the ' Literary Notes ' of * The St James's Gazette '— * Mr. Ernest

Rhys is going to America to lecture. His subject will be " Walt
Whitman and the New Poetry ; " ' and it was only yesterday even-
ing that, walking in the suburbs of a pleasant village in Sussex, I
overheard a little boy, who had paused on his way home from the
Board school to throw stones at the windows of a solitary * house
to let,' singing a hymn which commenced —

* Twinkle, twinkle, little star !
Now we all know what you are ;
Fumes of soda, flames of tin.
And incandescent hydro-gin.'

I regret that the little boy, catching sight of me, ran away, so that
I was deprived of the remaining stanzas of this specimen of the
* New Poetry ' — the sort of poetry which must be quickly substi-
tuted for the old, if we wish to avoid some terrible reaction against
all that is truly liberal and progressive. — I am, Sir, your obedient
servant. Scientist."

^^ December 19."

LYMINGTON 389

tain trouvaille which he happened on at a Hastings
jeweller's, a gem offered at much less than its true
value, which first started him on this pursuit. He
very speedily acquired other jewels, the best of which
were set as an adornment to a silver crucifix. These
stones were constantly being exchanged for others,
always in the confident expectation of an increase of
value : his transactions brought him into touch with
the principal jewellers and diamond merchants in
London, and the traffic became a regular occupation.
I remember asking him what had first launched him
on this career, and he told me that it was mainly his
profound distrust in the stability of England, the con-
stant anticipation of a sudden and overwhelming
catastrophe, which had convinced him of the neces-
sity of converting a considerable portion of his estate
into something which he might carry away at a mo-
ment's notice. One could not help being reminded
of Mr. Wemmick's " portable property," nor wonder-
ing at the depth of the pessimism, which, after all
due allowance for humorous exaggeration, the notion
evinced. Though Patmore felt assured of the pro-
fitable result of each separate transaction, it was
scarcely to be expected that he would, in the long
run, be able to hold his own with the trade. 1
understood from him however that, when he even-
tually realized, he did so without any loss beyond
the interest of the money thus invested ; and this,
he said, he had fully taken out in the pleasure of
having the stones about him. He certainly acquired
in the course of this pursuit a remarkable power of
valuing jewels, and could tell, almost at a glance and
within a very narrow margin, what sum any specimen
would fetch.

It was not very long before the final failure of his
health that he was persuaded, mainly by Mr. Gosse's
advice, to sit to Mr. Sargent for the picture which

390 COVENTRY PATMORE

is now in the National Portrait Gallery.^ I ran
down to Lymington soon after it had been sent
home, and Patmore was full of praise of it. It was
" the best portrait which Sargent, or probably any
other painter, had ever painted." The next morning
at breakfast, at which Patmore did not appear, I
asked the other members of his family their opinion
of it, which they declined to give till I had expressed
my own ; and I was in due course taken to see it. It
was obviously an exceptionally fine work of art, but
seemed to me to incline towards caricature, and to
present a somewhat truculent character, alert and
active rather than reflective, thus missing the aspect
of " seer " which, in later years, had alone seemed
to me characteristic of him. It was indeed strange
to see how qualities, which were unquestionably
components of Patmore's many-sided nature, though
their physical expression was, for most observers,
obscured by the habits of a contemplative life, had
been manifest to the painter's eye, and by him were
brought into startling prominence. Patmore asked
me my opinion, and I told him that if the picture had
been extended downwards there must have appeared
the handle of a whip, and that he would then have
been fully revealed as a sort of Southern planter on the
point of thrashing his slaves and exclaiming, '* You
damned niggers." This criticism seemed to please
him greatly, and he said ^* Is not that what I have
been doing all my life?" He always delighted in
any tribute to his grasp of active life, and prided him-
self on his power of dealing blows to the adversary.
I remember his showing me about this time a review
of the ** Religio Poetae " (it was, I think, by Mr.
Henley), in which the critic more or less passed over

* A reproduction of this is given as the frontispiece of vol. ii.
Mr. Sargent made also two oil sketches of Patmore, one of which
is illustrated opposite p. 58, vol. ii.

LYMINGTON 391

his spiritual apprehensions as unintelligible, but dwelt
with keen appreciation on his political and social
opinions. This somewhat unexpected view seemed
to please Patmore extremely ; no doubt mainly be-
cause he considered that his hold on practical life
formed a guarantee for the soundness of his religious
ideas, but also, I think, in some measure because he
was conscious of powers which might have com-
manded eminence in other careers than that of poet
and " seer."

About the time of his migration to Lymington
signs of physical failure began to be apparent In
1894 h^ h^^ ^ series of illnesses extending over
some six months, from which he rallied, to feel, as
he told me with his characteristic optimism, " better
than he had ever been in his life." Nevertheless, it
was obvious that his strength was seriously impaired.
He was unable to walk far, and, even in the short
walks to which he had to restrict himself, often
suffered from weakness and vertigo. His face aged
very rapidly : he found it more and more difficult to
make the slightest effort, to write a letter, even to
sign a cheque. When starting for one of the very
short walks which were all that he could now com-
pass (usually to the hotel in the town, where he would
rest for some half-hour and read the " Times "), he
would not take the trouble to exchange his dressing-
gown for an overcoat, and preferred to face the/ I
local society in this picturesque but unconventional' ^
garb. i

One of the most conspicuous as well as most "^
unfortunate instances of this failure of energy which
came under my notice occurred in connection with
the publication of ** Rod, Root, and Flower." I had
read the work in manuscript, and had called the
author's attention to a paragraph in which, no doubt

39^ COVENTRY PATMORE ^^

through lapse of memory^ he had misrepresented
the essential meaning of a well-known sonnet of
Wordsworth's, and had built on the error a theory
which I thought peculiarly unfortunate. He accepted,
or appeared to accept, the correction at the moment ; i
but when the book appeared I found to my surprise
that the paragraph was retained in its original form-
It naturally became the subject of severe stricture j
from an otherwise friendly critic. I imagined that^
as was not infrequently the case, he had yielded his
opinion for the moment and afterwards reverted to
it This however was not so ; for he wrote to me
later to say that he had thoroughly assented to my
criticism and had resolved to correct the passage*
but had been quite unable to summon up the neces-
sary energy. I think too that in other respects
this latest volume, as well as the few essays which
he published during the same period, shows signs of
failure from a similar cause* Doubtless throughout
his career as a writer Patmore gave too little con- ■
sideration to the point of view of the reader. He
was always, more or less, a law to himself; and
so long as he was sure of his own footing, of the ^
truth of his own apprehensions, he was not greatly
concerned to present them in the most persuasive or
conciliatory form. But in certain passages of this
latest volume unusually little care is taken to avoid
risk of misunderstanding, and his other writings of
this time show a similar miscalculation of effect,
which I feel justified in attributing to a constantly
increasing failure of energy. He became more pre-
occupied and more silent ; often too apparently less
happy in his ruminations. What little he wrote for
publication, though not failing in insight and power,
was deficient in the old pregnancy, and seemed
perfunctory rather than inspired. There was clearly
a weakening of the will, which often assumed the

LYMINGTON 393

appearance of deterioration of judgment. It was
however clear to his intimates that his critical power
was potentially as keen as ever, but there was less
alertness, possibly less single-minded independence
in acting on it than in eanier days. Often the old
vein of brilliant talk returned, and was even more
impressive than before : moreover, the largeness of
view, which is the special privilege of old age to
those who have merited it, was conspicuously shown
in these last years. In his religious talk he dwelt
more and more on essentials to the exclusion of
slighter matters, — showed that he had enlarged his
spiritual and intellectual sympathies and become
more ** Catholic " in the widest and best meaning of
the term. If his moments of self-expression were
less frequent, they were continually of greater im-
port, and pourtrayed in equal degree spiritual in-
tensity and a charitable width of view. When-
ever the mist of physical weakness cleared, the sun
shone forth, never more brilliant than towards its
setting.

Looking back upon little less than thirty years of
close intimacy with the subject of this memoir, I
cannot but gratefully recognize an interest and an
influence of a most unusual, most stimulating, and
most beneficial nature. The retrospect moreover
is absolutely unalloyed by any single misunderstand-
ing or disturbance of friendly relations. Not that I
felt qualified either by intellect or idiosyncracy to
identify myself with all his most strongly held
opinions, or to rise with him, even in imagination,
to the full extent of his flights into those mystic
regions of thought in which his spiritual nature
moved as in its habitual element. Scarcely could

)

] idea

C yi^rath

"^ / ' evei

394 COVENTRY PATMORE

he himself have claimed or expected full companion-
ship on his journeys into the empyrea n. Still it is
certain that personal intercoiTree in no small measure
aided comprehension of his written words, and
that this twofold revelation of a striking personality
served to bring into view the essential unity of ap-
pearance, manner, character, and intellect* Nor
should I fail to record how great an advantage it
necessarily was to have seen him under varied cir-
cumstances, and at stages of life sufficiently apart
to show the different phases which the same person-
ality could present. Those who knew him only
under a single aspect of time or surroundings can
scarcely have apprehended the full scope of his
character and must necessarily be to some degree
at fault regarding him. This more extended know-
ledge at least enables me the more confidently to
correct certain impressions of him the existence of
which cannot be ignored. The common popular
idea which conceived him to be a mild, soft, and
rather sentimental personality will be, by all who
ever even saw him, at once dismissed as absurd — as
derived only from the study of his earlier writings,
and even this study a superficial one. The opposed
and more specious opinion of him — that of a some-
what harsh, severe, autocratic, and unsympathetic
individual — is but one degree less wide of the mark,
and can only be excused in those whose knowledge
of him was limited to the later days, and was, even
within these limits, inadequate. It is however not
impossible to conjecture how such an opinion became
current. Patmore neither was nor greatly cared to
be an adept in ordinary social talk. Most subjects
of general conversation entirely failed to rouse him.
He would remain silent until some topic was in-
troduced which touched, or seemed to touch, some
one of his deeply-seated opinions, political, social,

LYMINGTON 395

or religious, and would then give vent to some
strong, pregnant, possibly paradoxical expression,
which had the effect of the explosion of a gun in a
grove of twittering birds. His convictions were too
fixed, too important to him, to allow of any com-
promise, even that of presenting them in their most
conciliatory form. They had to appear in all their
forcible nudity, without the drapery of convention ;
and being further, (if, as often happened, politics
were the subject of discussion), expressive of a
strongly pessimistic view, were inevitably staggering
to the average hearer. Those, and there must have
been many, who got no further than this stage, might
undoubtedly have thought him harsh, dictatorial, and
unsympathetic; and it must have been difficult for
them to realize that this outer crust concealed a
nature of very unusual sensitiveness, delicacy, and
tenderness. An authoritarian he certainly was, both
philosophically and by temperament ; and the com-
paratively secluded life which he had lived for so
many years had no doubt confirmed this tendency
of his nature. Also those mystic apprehensions
which had always, and increasingly with the ap-
proach of age, been the main, almost the exclusive,
interest of his spiritual life, were so necessarily in-
communicable to ordinary minds that he can have
found but few with whom he could establish rela-
tions of true intercourse on the subjects for which
alone he really cared. It was indeed almost pathetic
to see how eager he was that those who were in
sympathy with him generally should be carried to
the full height of his mystic vision and find, as he
did, the clouds change to solid mountains under
their feet ; and the endeavour to secure this boon
for his friends, constantly baffled as it must have
been, would inevitably confirm him in mental isola-
tion.

396

COVENTRY PATMORE

en-

I have however completely failed in my
deavour if I have not, in some measure, brought
home to my readers a conviction of the essential
geniality of his nature, of the depth of his affectionsi
and of the loyalty of his friendship.

END OF VOL, I.

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